


The Intercontinental

by Downtoncat



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Falling In Love, Family Secrets, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 40,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22574797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Downtoncat/pseuds/Downtoncat
Summary: "Do you ever wonder... if you were born in a different world, in a different time - would you still have to run away from yourself?"
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 117
Kudos: 275





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

“‘Scuse me, miss?”

Eleanor turned around to notice a tall man standing in front of her. His clothes looked terribly smart, albeit a bit old-fashioned; a dark coat and his jet black hair tucked neatly under a bowler hat. Next to him stood another man, a bit younger perhaps, slightly shorter and blonde. He was wearing a grey overcoat, and on his head one of those silly-looking tweed caps. She assumed it was some vintage or hipster look, but they were certainly far from the strangest individuals to ever appear in the centre of London.

“We were wondering if you could help us, please,” the taller man asked, putting the leather suitcase in his hand on the floor. There was a strong sense of urgency and unease in his grey eyes. “We were on the train this morning, from York to London,” he began to explain, his accent northern and rather old-fashioned for someone his age. “But - there seems to have been a mistake… We must‘ve taken the wrong train or- or- since we ended up here, wherever this is…” he seemed confused by his own words as he spoke hurriedly.

The other man stood by, half nervous and half grumpy as he looked around, hands crossed in front of his chest defensively. He also had a small, vintage-looking suitcase by his feet. They both appeared to be terribly uncomfortable and perhaps even lost.

Eleanor didn't think too much of it. She guessed they must be from some smaller town, and aren't used to big cities – but even so – London was a pretty iconic place. “No mistake, sir,” she replied, looking the pair up and down apprehensively. “If you were travelling to London, you’re here. This _is_ London.”

“No, it isn’t,” the blonde spoke up. His voice was surprisingly low, but he also sounded agitated. He leaned closer to the other man, ignoring Eleanor. “Mr Barrow, this _can’t_ be London! We’ve been to London, and this- this is-” A panic bubbled just underneath the surface, pervading his words. He lowered his voice into a hiss. “Why are there so many lights? Why are the trains like this?! The buildings? What’s wrong with the people?!”

Some passers-by gave the trio an odd look as they walked by them.

The taller man rested a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “Jimmy, calm down, you’ll scare her away like those three before-” he said, but he didn’t sound very sure of himself, therefore not very convincing. He turned to Eleanor once again: “Miss, this _cannot_ be London,” he insisted. “We’ve been there many times, we know what the train station in London looks like.”

 _What is this, a joke? A prank?_ Eleanor looked around briefly, as if expecting to find hidden cameras. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you. This _is_ London. You step outside, you’ll see the Thames, the Tower Bridge, everything,” she said. “Perhaps you arrived at a different station last time you were here-”

“No, no,” the man shook his head, while the other one sighed. “The station looks _vaguely_ similar, but it’s not it. And- and the trains, the buildings… they’re _wrong_. This place is-”

“Miss, please,” the blonde cut in, stepping forward and addressing Eleanor. “D’you happen to know where we could use a telephone?” he asked. “The Crawley family will have missed us by now, if we could just telephone them and tell them that we’ll be late, that we've... taken... the wrong train?”

His last words were a question. The pair both looked now at Eleanor, now around themselves like two deer in front of headlights. She felt uncomfortable, but was also intrigued by these two strangers; more than she had ever been by some random person who stopped her in the street.

“Fine, you can use my phone,” she agreed reluctantly. She reached into her pocket and brought out a smartphone, handing it out for them to take.

The pair gawked at the device.

“W-what’s this?” the shorter man asked, staring at the phone.

 _Is this for real? They better not be loonies..._ Eleanor blinked at them. “A phone?” she stressed sarcastically. “To call your family? Like you asked?” _Has to be candid camera! They'll reveal it any second.  
_

“The Crawleys aren’t ‘our’ family, we’re their employees,” the raven-haired man corrected her, sounding dead-serious. “I’m Mr Barrow, Lord Grantham's under butler, and this is Ji- um- Mr Kent. First footman.”

“Under butler? Oh, you work for some toffs, then,” Eleanor figured. _That explains the clothes,_ she nodded to herself. But – did it also explain the rest of it? Their confusion and surprise about the phone, their… _odd_ behaviour?

The one called Barrow took a step back from Eleanor’s hand which was still holding out the phone. “Well, if this is London, could you give us the directions to the Grantham House? It’s in the city centre,” he asked.

Eleanor put her phone away. “‘Grantham House’… Don’t think there’s such a place here. Is that a manor or something grand like that?”

“It’s the family’s London residence,” explained the shorter man.

She shrugged. “Nope, never heard of the ‘Grantham House’, and I’ve lived here all my life. I can google it for you, but I don’t think it’s here.”

“Goo- what?”

Barrow sighed, ready to turn away. “Never mind, Jimmy, let’s try someone else.”

“But no one bloody knows,” snapped the other man, impatient. “Why is everyone we ask saying there is no Grantham House?! It can’t ‘ve just disappeared!” he gritted through his teeth. “How did this happen? We were on the same train as everyone else! Where have they gone?”

The taller one didn’t reply. He only shook his head and looked down, then reached into his pocket for a cigarette and lit it, his hands visibly shaking.

Eleanor would have normally walked away from such a situation. She knew there was no point in reasoning with crazy people – and these two certainly looked crazier by the minute. However, the pair also appeared terribly distressed and genuinely lost. Perhaps they weren’t as crazy as much as they were… out of place. They were only a bit older than her, they spoke the language, and yet - there was something odd about them.

“Look, erm…Why don’t I buy you a cuppa and we try to figure this out, hm?” she suggested.

“Buy us a- a _woman_? Buy _us_ a drink?” frowned Barrow, a thick cloud of smoke escaping his mouth. Kent also stared at her in shock, as if they were both deeply shocked by her statement.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow quizzically. “‘Scuse me, are you from the medieval times? What’s wrong with a girl buying two blokes a drink? I’m trying to be nice!” she said, ready to walk away. _Why are you even bothering?_ “But if you don’t want my help, fine, good luck then.”

“No, please, wait,” Barrow called, quickly stepping after her. “We- we don’t know where to go,” he admitted quietly, his lips pressed into a line.

“We’d appreciated your help,” added Kent, a bit contrite. “Truly.”

Eleanor looked the pair up and down again. _You must be out of your mind, girl._ She sighed and nodded. “Alright. Let's go to _The Bridge,_ sit down and see what we can do. By the looks of it, you could use something stronger than tea…”


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re saying you’re _actually_ from 1922?!” Eleanor laughed, taking another sip of her tea. “I’ve bought you a drink, don’t you think you’re taking this joke too far?”

“It’s not a joke!” insisted Barrow, who had mentioned that his first name was Thomas. He was gripping the teacup in his hands nervously.

“But _you’re_ saying,” interrupted James Kent, who preferred to go by Jimmy. “That this is 2020?” He was an equal measure of excited and flustered. “As in, the actual year 2020?”

Eleanor didn’t know whether to laugh or to call the police. _Is it a movie then? A period drama! Are they filming anything ‘round here?_ She put her cup down and nodded. “It’s _the year_ 2020, yep.”

“ _‘Yep,_ ’” repeated Jimmy emphatically, fascinated by this, for his standards, unusually casual language.

Eleanor shook her head and smiled. This was the most ridiculous thing that’s ever happened to her, and she was kind of enjoying it. _If they’re actors, they certainly are dedica-_ “Um, what are you doing?” she asked as Thomas brought out a cigarette. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“Why not?” The tip already in his mouth, he reached into his pocket for a lighter. He was absolutely flustered when Eleanor’s hand plucked the cigarette away.

“Because,” she said in a reprimanding tone, “this is a no-smoke area.” She pointed to the sign behind her by the entrance. “I’m not having us thrown out, smoke outside if you want.” _Seriously, are they messin’ about or have they escaped from a mental asylum? Should I be worried?_

Thomas’s set jaw clearly illustrated how he felt about that sign forbidding him his favourite stress-relief activity. “Why on earth are they banning smoking?” he asked grumpily, nervously twiddling with the lighter in his right hand.

“Because it’s not good for you, _and_ it’s polite to non-smokers.” _God, am I seriously explaining this to a thirty-year-old man?!_

Thomas only muttered something under his breath and crossed his hands in front of his chest.

What on earth was happening? Where were they, _really_? He hadn’t had the time to properly process everything that happened since they found themselves in this strange place. Thomas had fallen into a state where it was impossible to waste the energy and nerves on questioning everything, because he saw something new and bizarre every second – so he just didn’t bother with it. He accepted whatever this young brunette woman was telling them, or whatever they saw, because if he were to think too much about the rules that seemed to apply to this place, he would surely lose his mind.

However, he certainly was both surprised and overwhelmed. He still hadn’t recovered from walking the short distance from the station to _The Bridge_ café – the sort of people that had passed them by in the street! Everyone in strange and scandalous outfits, with crazy hairstyles! For some, he couldn’t say with certainty whether they were men or women. He could swear that at some point he saw a dog in a dress! A bloody dog! Most people seemed to walk around with those strange black blocks in hand, just like Eleanor, typing something in them, not minding where they were going. And the streets… they weren’t really streets – they were chaos! Buildings with flashing lights and gigantic colourful moving images on them – like the cinema, but not really. So many cars – hardly the cars they knew – more like some futuristic vehicles from a fantasy novel. Fascinating, yet intimidating.

Perhaps this girl doubted Jimmy and Thomas’s story, but Thomas certainly had no problem believing that the year was indeed 2020. To imagine that they had somehow been transported into the future was perhaps the most logical explanation.

Jimmy, however, was a touch less uncomfortable than Thomas – perhaps because his predominant reaction to everything was fascination. Yes, it was scary and weird and sometimes scandalous – for goodness sake, even Eleanor was wearing some terribly tight trousers - but this place was so much less rigid than what they were used to. Jimmy was like a child at a candy store; overwhelmed, confused about what to even focus on, his eyes hungrier than his stomach. He wanted to take it all in, but everything was so new and exciting that he couldn’t pay attention to one thing, because the next one had already appeared, ready to be examined.

“Seriously though,” asked Eleanor, taking a sip of tea. “Is this for a play or something? You find random people in the street, practice on them for some theatre show? Ultimate method acting, that kinda stuff?”

“ _‘Kinda_ ,’” repeated Jimmy quietly to himself.

But Thomas couldn’t take it anymore. “W-what theatre show?!” he exploded. “Look, miss, I told you – there is no show! No acting! We’re from 1922, and we just want to get back,” he hissed, not caring that a lot of eyes from the café were on him.

Eleanor wasn’t convinced, but underneath it all there was something unsettling about this. _No one could put up an act for this long… could they?_ Or maybe, just maybe- no. That’s impossible… _Fine, let’s play your game._

“Ok, convince me then, ‘time-travellers’!” she asked and leaned back in her chair. “Can you show me some kind of identification, money, your tickets?” _You’re not_ that _dedicated. Clothes, luggage, the way you talk, all brilliant – but I bet ya you didn’t make every single little prop._

“I’d rather not flash me money about, thank you very much,” said Jimmy dryly. “But you’re free to look at this.” From his pocket he brought out a crumpled train ticket.

Eleanor inspected it suspiciously. _Shit, you’re good! This genuinely looks legit. Hell, even the date matches!_

“Kudos on the props,” she said as she returned the piece of paper to the blonde man. “So what happens now? You stay in character ‘til I catch you in a lie?”

Jimmy turned to Thomas. “What the bloody hell is she talking about?”

“Alright,” continued the brunette woman. “So you said you’re working for this Lord-guy, right?”

“ _‘Lord-guy,_ ’” repeated Jimmy and burst into a laugh.

“Lord Grantham,” said Thomas, unamused. “From Downton Abbey.”

“Oh, that _is_ a real place, I think. You’ve thought this through,” Eleanor exclaimed. “Hold on, let me check it out,” she added and grabbed her phone.

“What are you doing?” asked the blonde man, craning his neck to see why the heck she was swiping her fingers over that small black block.

“See if you’re telling the truth.”

“This thing can tell you that?”

She ignored his question. “Ok, here we go, ‘Downton Abbey’… right, so who exactly is this ‘Lord Grantham’?”

Thomas sighed, but decided to oblige her. “Our employer, Robert Crawley, the 7th Earl of Grantham,” he recited. “Husband to Lady Cora Crawley, born Levinson. She’s American. They have three-” he suddenly paused, shaking his head. “ _Two_ daughters,” he said in a more serious tone.

Jimmy pitched in. “Lady Edith is not yet married. Lady Sybil died in childbirth, but her husband, Mr Branson, and little Miss Sybbie live at Downton. Lady Mary was married to Matthew Crawley, who died last September in a car accident, not far away from the estate.”

“They have a son, Master George, born on the same day his father died,” added Thomas. “Your black block believe us yet?”

“Holy shit,” Eleanor whispered under her breath, not ready for this flood of information. Ignoring the pair’s scandalized faces over her remark, she scrolled down. “That’s not all on Wikipedia, but you could ‘ve made it up or read it somewhere else…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” sighed Jimmy.

But Thomas thought of something. “Look,” he said and put his box of cigarettes in front of Eleanor. “If this really is the year you say it is, then I seriously doubt you’d still have these around.”

She looked at the vintage-looking cigarette box. He could have bought it from some antique shop, no doubt – but why try so persistently to convince her?

Jimmy put a one pound note next to the box. “We’re not lying,” he said quietly but earnestly, making eye contact with Eleanor. “You use this money 'round here?”

 _But if you’re telling the truth…_ Despite their unbelievable story they were far too rational to be crazy, and far too insecure to be psychopaths. Eleanor’s nonchalant attitude began fading away. She felt terribly uncomfortable – not just because of the stare, but because of what believing them would mean.

“Is-” she began hesitantly, looking at the banknote. “Is this money really all you have?”

They nodded in response.

 _Good god…_ “You ‘ve any papers? Passports and such?”

This time, two shaking heads answered.

She felt a rising panic in her chest. Looking attentively at the two faces opposite her, she noticed it now – their eyes, body language – it wasn’t acting. They _were,_ certainly and definitely, out of place.

Her tone was quiet. “So where will you go?”

They looked at each other in confusion.

“We _would_ stay at the Grantham House, but now…”

“Is there an inn ‘round here? A hotel maybe?”

 _An ‘inn,’ Jesus Christ! They can’t buy squat with this money,_ she thought. _It’s fine, take them to the police station, they’ll know how to… send them back to… the past?_

“Ok,” Eleanor nodded slowly, a pensive expression on her face. _Girl, don’t- but what’s the point of having so many rooms at your disposal if you’re not making use of them in situations like this-  
_

She straightened up in her chair and looked from one man to the other. “Right," she said with a determined exhale. "You’re coming with me then.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Gentlemen, welcome to The Intercontinental,” Eleanor announced proudly as the trio entered the large, spacious lobby of the hotel.

Everything was gleaming in white and gold, from the high ceiling with a centrepiece crystal chandelier, to the gilded details on elegant and slender marble pillars. There was a giant staircase in the middle, flaring at the bottom but narrowing as it climbed up, then splitting to the left and right, encircling the second floor and matching the dome shape of the ceiling above it. Like the pillars, the staircase was all in white marble, but contrasted against a dark blue rug and gilded railings with vine shapes. The dome was also white, painted with symmetrical black and gold details.

Thomas and Jimmy felt almost entranced; they couldn’t help but stare in awe. This was grander than anything they had ever seen in their lives. Was this the kind of hotel the Crawleys would stay at or have dinner in? Or was this even more luxurious?

The lobby was very busy, but it didn’t feel as crowded. The large glass windows that represented three of the four walls gave the room the illusion of being even more spacious than it was.

“This is surreal,” whispered Jimmy, giving in to the temptation of tracing with his finger the embossed outline of a vine on the pillar next to him.

“Pretty sure you could get that champagne of yours at a place like this,” commented Thomas, admiring the myriad of city lights coming in through the giant glass windows. The lights were practically reflecting in the marble floor, so polished you could almost see your reflection in it.

“Come along,” Eleanor prompted them. “Just um… don’t say anything, alright? Let _me_ do the talking.”

They made their way through the crowd over to the reception. Eleanor waved to the young man behind the counter who – unlike his older co-worker on the left – was currently not busy with guests.

“Hey, Pete!” she greeted the tall, dark-haired man in a blue uniform as they approached. “You finishin’ up or starting?”

“Elle,” he exclaimed excitedly. “Night shift, ‘m afraid-” His attention immediately landed on the two men by the girl’s side. “Oh- who are your friends?” he asked and eyed them curiously, though not unwelcomingly.

“This is Thomas Barrow, and James Kent,” Eleanor introduced them. “They’re...” she hesitated. “They’re old friends. Yeah. From abroad.” She glanced at their suits and suitcases. “Historians.”

“Oh, welcome,” said Peter cordially and reached out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

The pair mustered a couple of kind smiles, shaking the man’s hand warily – but they didn’t say anything besides ‘hello,’ as they had been instructed.

“They don’t speak the language,” Eleanor clarified and masked her unease with a casual smile. “They’re from um… Germany.”

“‘Scuse me?! We bloody well aren’t,” Thomas objected instantly, giving Eleanor a stare that could kill.

“Those swine that tired to kill us in the trenches?!” demanded Jimmy, appearing equally angry.

 _Shit, the war!_ It took Eleanor a second to get over the shock, but as soon as she did, she burst into a forced laughter. “Hah, good one,” she said, feigning amusement. “They’re just messin’ you about, Pete. Historian jokes, haha. They're from England too, hah.”

She gently elbowed Thomas to prompt him to laugh, but without much success. Peter appeared unconvinced by the story, but he smiled anyway.

“So…” Eleanor continued, wiping the forced grin off her blushing face. “They haven’t got a room booked ‘cause they weren’t planning on staying, but they’ll be here for… a few days. Got anything free for ‘em?”

Peter skimmed through the reservations, but shook his head apologetically. “Sorry, Elle, we’re full. Upcoming Valentine’s day an’ all.”

She nodded and thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Well then, they’ll stay at mine for now. Give me a ring if anything clears out.”

“Will do,” Peter nodded, but then paused for a second, hesitating. “By the way, I was thinking if maybe you’d like to…”

But she didn’t hear him. His words drowned in the murmurs and footsteps of the crowd in which the trio disappeared.

Jimmy turned to Eleanor curiously. “At _yours_?”

“My place,” she explained as she led them over to the elevators.

Thomas was confused too. “Where’s ‘your place’? Where are we going?”

“Up,” she smiled enigmatically.

Their questions were put on hold – the pair became distracted by the elevators. Jimmy suspiciously eyed the shiny metal doors when they opened. “Are these safe?”

“Of course,” Eleanor assured him and pushed them both inside. “I’m not walking to the 23rd floor, so get in.”

Apart from the fact that Thomas and Jimmy had rarely taken an elevator in their own time, these contraptions were much different. As they waited for the elevator to move Thomas felt Jimmy step closer to him so that their shoulders were touching. He wondered if Jimmy was even aware of it, or if it was an involuntary reaction.

The elevator was very quiet, and the men could hardly register it was moving at all. They were a bit unsure about the contraption in principle, but once they were in, they didn’t really feel as if they were in danger.

Amazingly quickly, a little ‘ding’ sound announced their floor and they exited. Eleanor led them down a short hallway which seemed to lead to only one room.

“This certainly isn’t 1922,” breathed Thomas, entering the penthouse.

In the middle of the large room was a light grey couch and two armchairs, a small glass coffee table, on the wall opposite it a big rectangle of a picture, completely black and glossy. There was a kitchen in the same space; small, white and grey, and a kitchen island with a marble top next to the cupboards. There was a door to the left and two to the right, and similarly to the lobby there was a wall made entirely of glass windows which led out onto the balcony.

“Sorry, it’s bit messy,” commented Eleanor as she scurried from the coffee table to the couch to collect a book, some papers, a jumper and two coffee mugs that were lying about.

“Wait-” said Thomas, bewildered. “This- this is _your_ apartment?”

Eleanor gave him a quick smile and nodded. “My parents own the hotel. They like to stay as far away from work as possible, but I love it up here.”

“My god, this is… it’s…” Jimmy was lost for words, but perhaps more fascinated with the apartment than with what Eleanor had just said. He carefully but enthusiastically walked over to the windows that offered a panoramic view of the city. “This is amazing!” he exclaimed. “Thomas, come here.”

Thomas approached – but then a thought passed him by: _‘Thomas,’ he called you._ _You’re always Mr Barrow to him,_ he noted and smiled. _But he called you ‘Thomas’ just now._ He knew he shouldn’t think too much of it, but this was even better than the view.

“My bedroom and bathroom are over there,” Eleanor said and pointed to the right. “And you can stay at the guest room. There’s only one bed, but if that’s not appropriate, the couch pulls out, it’s pretty comfortable. We’ll get you into a different room as soon as anything is fr-”

“I'm sorry, hold on,” Thomas interrupted her. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, for the first time since they arrived wondering whether this was maybe a bit suspicious.

Concern washed over Jimmy’s expression as well.

“This is lovely, but… we can’t pay you,” Thomas added quietly, with a hint of remorse.

Eleanor joined them by the windows. “I believe your story,” she said. “And if things are as you say, you could be in danger out there. You stand out like two sore thumbs, you said it yourselves, you don’t know where to go, and for goodness sake, you can’t buy anything with this money.”

They stared at her blankly, and she figured they were probably well aware of everything she'd just said.

“I want to help you get back if that’s possible,” she continued. “And for the time being you’re welcome to stay here.”

“We can stay?” asked Thomas, unconvinced. “Just like that?”

“Yes,” Eleanor shrugged. “If I can help at all, then making sure that two people in need of a roof over their head get a place to stay is the least I can do.”

The two men exchanged glances, pondering on her words for a moment.

“Thank you,” replied Thomas in a sincere and grateful tone.

“Yes, thank you," added Jimmy. "But - your family really owns this hotel?’” he wondered still.

Eleanor nodded, but didn’t want to make a big thing out of it, so she switched the topic. “You must be hungry,” she suddenly remembered to ask, and just like that, she hurried over to the fridge and inspected its contents. “Hmm, all that I have that’s edible and quick is some frozen pizza. Is that ok?”

“Pizza?” asked Thomas. The word didn’t mean much to him, and neither to Jimmy.

“W-what’s ‘pizza’?” asked the other man.

“You’ve never had it?” Eleanor gawked. “Alright, hold up, I’ll pop it in the microwave for a sec. Not a culinary delicacy, but it’ll do I hope.”

Thomas and Jimmy took their coats off and sat on the couch, still in awe of how comfortable it was by the time Eleanor returned from the kitchen. She brought three plates, each with a giant triangular piece of bread with tomato sauce, cheese, and what looked like some kind of thinly sliced sausage on top. It smelled incredible, and Jimmy’s stomach rumbled at the sight of it.

“Dig in,” said Eleanor and grabbed her slice, no knife or fork, and took a bite.

Thomas and Jimmy exchanged glances, but they were too hungry to refuse the offered food, even if they didn’t have the proper utensils to eat it, or if they perhaps doubted it was entirely safe.

“Oh, wow,” mumbled the black-haired man when he tasted it.

“Hmm,” moaned Jimmy, nodding approvingly. “This is very good, did you make it yourself?”

Eleanor laughed. “Haha, I wish.”

“Well, compliments to the chef,” said Thomas, biting off another piece.

They certainly wouldn’t go to bed hungry this evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s an additional short story for you: I’m from a tiny EU country and I take a train to our capital every Sunday evening and stay over the week for lectures at uni, then head back home on Fridays. Every evening as I walk from the station to my dorm I pass the (real) Intercontinental hotel in the city centre, and at some point I started coming up with stories of Thomas and Jimmy getting transported to the present and somehow ending up at a grand hotel like that. Voila, this is how this fic was born. :) But to give credit where credit is due – I do think that Camaelczarka’s Dreamscapes may have subconsciously inspired the whole hotel thing.


	4. Chapter 4

“Oh,” breathed Jimmy as he noticed a figure standing by the window. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

Thomas turned towards him, half of his face illuminated by the moonlight. “Can’t sleep,” he shrugged and gave him a little smile.

“Me either,” admitted Jimmy and suddenly felt a pang of guilt. _You simply let him take the couch without putting up a proper fight. And now you’re complaining with that amazing bed all to yourself?!_ “If you’d rather take the bed-”

“It’s not that,” interrupted the other man. “It’s just… everything. I kept thinking that if I fall asleep, that the next time I open my eyes I’ll be back at Downton and this will all have been a dream.”

Jimmy nodded pensively. “But we can’t both be having the same dream, can we?”

Thomas shook his head and smiled. “No, don’t think so.”

Jimmy joined him by the windows, his eyes scanning the view. “It’s so… bright,” he said in awe. “So many lights.”

“Such tall and unusual buildings,” added Thomas, then pointed somewhere to the right. “Westminster Abbey’s still there, though.”

“Next to that heinous wheel-thing,” commented Jimmy dryly. “It looks pretty extraordinary, but it doesn’t fit there at all.”

Thomas gave him a bittersweet smile. “Nothing seems to fit.”

“I wonder what old Carson would have to say if he were here,” Jimmy mused.

“His eyebrows would dart so far up with shock that they’d leave his forehead,” Thomas replied and they both burst into a laugh.

“Can I…” began Jimmy slowly, not making eye contact with the other man as he spoke. “Would you mind if I stayed here a while? If you’re not planning on sleeping yet, I mean.”

Thomas seemed surprised by this, but it wasn’t an unwelcome request. “If you want,” he said and gave him one of those blissful and unguarded smiles.

They left the city lights and the view behind and circled over to the couch, but before they sat down, Jimmy’s eyes caught a glimpse of a book that was lying in Thomas’s open suitcase.

“You brought Wilde with you?” he asked and reached for the item.

“Oh, yes,” said Thomas and felt a blush creeping up his neck. “Never mind, give it here, this should be closed anyway,” he said, referring to the suitcase.

But Jimmy quickly moved his hand out of reach when Thomas tried to take the book.

“Let’s read some of it, maybe it’ll help us fall asleep.”

Thomas huffed a smile, unsure whether Jimmy was implying that Wilde was boring, or if he meant that reading in general could have that effect.

“Let’s just continue wherever you left of.” The blonde man sat down with the book and pushed back the thin red ribbon which indicated the page where Thomas had stopped reading.

“Alright, then give it to me,” the other man insisted and took the book, sitting himself on the couch next to Jimmy. He wondered for a second if he might be too close since their thighs were almost touching, but after quickly glancing at Jimmy he figured that the other man was apparently fine with this position. “Shall I read aloud?”

Jimmy nodded, and Thomas cleared his throat.

“ ‘The aim of life is self-development,” he began in a measured tone. “To realise one's nature perfectly – that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to one's self. Of course they are charitable. They feed the hungry, and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked.’ ”

* * *

Jimmy didn’t know when Thomas had stopped reading or at what point they fell asleep – but he woke up in a half-sitting position, his neck bent at a rather uncomfortable angle, left shoulder pressed against-

_Oh, god!_

Thomas’s head was resting on Jimmy’s shoulder. The raven-haired man was still fast asleep, _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ lying open in his lap.

 _No, no, it’s fine – just don’t move. He’ll wake up any minute now,_ Jimmy thought to himself, feeling his nervous heartbeat racing in his chest more and more rapidly.

He quickly glanced at the sleeping man, uncomfortable with the situation, but unable to resist looking at him. Thomas’s hair was dishevelled, a loose strand falling over his eyes. His face was relaxed, lips faintly parted, chest rising slightly with each inhale.

 _He looks so… peaceful,_ Jimmy concluded and smiled to himself – but the very next moment, a distressing thought echoed in his mind and drove the smile away.

_‘If you don’t speak out, people may think you’re not disgusted at all.’_

_You bloody hypocrite, Jimmy!_ But he had to do it, didn’t he? _Had_ to say something, keep his distance after that unfortunate night. Otherwise they’d think he was just like Thomas; he could lose his job, they’d mock him, look at him with disgust…

But it was water under the bridge, they were on good terms now.

This right now was different. Jimmy felt comfortable, he’d told himself, because he had no reason to worry about protecting his dignity now – no one was there to see or reprimand him.

Besides, nothing was wrong with this picture, was there? They weren’t doing anything _wrong_. He was simply letting Thomas sleep. Like any good friend would.

Suddenly, he heard a ‘click’ of a key turning in a lock, and the door of Eleanor’s room opened.

Jimmy’s body jerked, and Thomas’s eyes flew open. He realized where he was and moved away, sleepily blinking into the morning light.

“Oh- sorry, did I wake you up?” asked Eleanor who emerged in her pyjamas, hair up in a messy bun. “Didn’t know you’d both be here,” she added and gave them a curious look. “Was there something wrong with the bed?”

Jimmy didn’t want to look at her because it felt terribly wrong staring at an improperly dressed young woman – but he also didn’t want to face Thomas. He only shook his head in response. “N-no, the bed’s perfect, I just... couldn’t sleep.”

“What time is it?” Thomas asked, moving still a bit further away from Jimmy. He was also avoiding eye contact with him.

Eleanor yawned. “It’s only nine.”

“Nine?!” gawked the blonde man. Thomas was immediately fully awake. When did they last sleep until _nine_ in the morning? Did they ever?

“Wanna go downstairs to the restaurant for breakfast?” the girl asked. “I sometimes go when I’m too lazy to whip something up… or if I have to make breakfast for like, three people,” she smiled.

“ _‘Like,’_ ” repeated Jimmy, taking in all the grammatical peculiarities of this time.

“But we can't afford it,” said Thomas. “You said it yourself, they won’t take our money.”

“You’re hotel guests, you have an all-inclusive.”

“How?” wondered Jimmy. “We ’ve nothing.”

“If you come with the co-owner of the hotel, nobody is going to ask questions,” Eleanor smiled. “Now come.”

They got dressed and then washed in the bathroom which the men didn’t think looked all that different, apart from the fact that everything was very white and kind of angular. Eleanor insisted that they ditch some items of clothing in order to look more casual and blend in, but they resisted, saying they’d look improper. Ultimately, the trio reached an agreement – Thomas and Jimmy got to keep the vests and ties, but the coats and hats were unnecessary indoors.

They took the elevator together with a family of four who eyed them a bit suspiciously, and Thomas and Jimmy began wondering if it was truly just their clothes that brought about such a reaction. But who were these people to judge? It wasn’t like _they_ were dressed to any standards! The woman was wearing some ghastly-looking matching bright pink top and bottoms, the man a shirt with a depiction of some strange caricature, and their two young daughters looked like colourful sugar candy that you can buy at a fair.

The hotel restaurant was a large room on the second floor, full of delicious smells. The choices were overwhelming. Thomas and Jimmy didn’t know where to begin, so they basically followed Eleanor around, curiously inspecting the dishes. In the end, they sat down at a table with a bit of buttered toast and fried eggs on their plates – just to be safe – along with some other interesting things that caught their eye.

Jimmy found waffles, something he’d known about but had never tasted, and he added some fruit to them, surprised by the variety and how common it seemed to be here. Eleanor explained what it was called; he knew blueberries, but the green thing with black seeds was ‘kiwi,’ and the orange cubes that smelled delightfully fresh and exotic were ‘mango’.

Thomas, however, was at first excited by the variety of teas, but then he spotted something else. According to Eleanor it was coffee, but it wasn’t made on a stove, rather it came out of a small machine – and the coffee itself was very small too; three sips, perhaps. He found it tasty enough, though much stronger than regular coffee.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Eleanor, nibbling on her croissant. “Maybe there’s a way you could use your money here after all.”

“How so?” asked Thomas curiously.

“I’m not sure how much, but actual money from the twenties must be worth something," she explained. "Also, I’ve done a bit of research last night as far as your… _issue_ is concerned. But I couldn’t find anything useful on the internet, so maybe it’s time we try to do this old-school.”

“’Old-school?” Jimmy wondered.

“We’re going to see Alice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote is from 'The Picture of Dorian Gray,' though that's probably pretty obvious.
> 
> And just to let you know, next chapter is probably coming on the weekend, I'll be busy with some other stuff during the week. :)


	5. Chapter 5

“So you have no idea how you actually ended up here?” Eleanor asked as they walked down Hampton Street. She didn’t dare introduce them to the tube or anything similar – they seemed terribly nervous with all the traffic even just whizzing around them, who knows how things would go if they were actually _inside_ a vehicle.

Thomas shook his head in response to her question. “No, it was very strange. We took the train with everyone else, nothing out of the ordinary there.”

“But then we arrive at the station,” Jimmy took over, “we take our stuff, step out – everything still looked normal for a second-”

Thomas nodded. “But then we turn around, and suddenly the train looks all… futuristic.”

“And the station changed all of a sudden too,” added Jimmy. “It was _our_ station one minute, and all wrong the next. Just like that. In a blink of an eye.”

Eleanor nodded pensively. _Well, that’s definitely not normal… if something like that’s ever happened before, I see how it’s never made the papers – nobody would believe it! It sounds absolutely nuts!_

“How far is it?” asked the blonde man about their destination.

“Not much longer, just through this park and then one street down,” the girl replied.

“And you own that shop _too_?” Thomas wondered. “In addition to the hotel?”

“Well, the hotel is my parents’. But _Bits & Bobs_ is my baby. My pride and joy,” she said and smiled. “I opened it, and do work there, but Alice and Ben are the real experts,” she added. “Are antiques a thing in your… time?”

The men exchanged looks.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a proper ‘antique shop’ before,” said Jimmy.

“Me either,” Thomas agreed. “Not in the sense that you’re referring to, at least. But there’s collectors of old things, yes. Statues, paintings-”

His mind trailed off. He suddenly stopped, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. Jimmy and Eleanor quickly realized what he was looking at.

There were two people sitting on a park bench; sitting really close. So close, that one’s hand was gently caressing the other one’s cheek. In fact, there was no distance between them at all; they were kissing. And they were both men.

Jimmy stared, frozen in place, his mouth slack open.

Thomas didn’t say anything, but he seemed equally transfixed. His eyes showed a mix of feelings brewing inside him, from shock and astonishment to something rather bittersweet.

Eleanor grabbed them both by the hand. “Come on, aren’t you supposed to be all about etiquette in your time? It’s rude to stare,” she said, trying to drag them away, unaware of how truly strange this must have been for them.

“They’re… they’re _men,_ ” breathed Jimmy, appearing stunned.

“Yes, good observation,” Eleanor commented sarcastically. “That’s normal nowadays. We’ve decided that we used to be jerks to ga- um, homosexuals,” she corrected herself, figuring that the word ‘gay’ probably meant something else in the 1920s. “We just let everyone get on with their lives. Let people love whoever they love.”

“But, can’t they be arrested for this?” Thomas asked in astonishment.

“No,” Eleanor assured him. The two men finally walked on, but kept looking back. “If it’s consensual, why should it be anyone’s business?” she added. “Can’t a man love a man just the same as a man can love a woman?”

Thomas looked down, but didn’t say anything. Jimmy’s face still hadn’t recovered from the shock. He didn’t have an answer either; however, he also didn’t have time to ask anything else.

The turned round a corner and halted in front of a small shop with an assortment of antiques in the window display. There were some lamps, clocks, silverware, candlesticks, some books, even a small box of strange banknotes. The sign above read: ‘Bits & Bobs’.

“Now, look,” Eleanor said, and the pair turned their attention from admiring the display to her. “It’s Alice’s shift, she’s an expert on old money. She’ll be able to tell you exactly how much we can take it for. But tell me first, how much are you willing to sell?”

“Do we get anything for a penny?” asked Jimmy.

Eleanor shook her head. “Not much for coins, m’afraid. Paper money could get you a decent sum, but its value depends on many things. I guess you could get something decent for a few pounds.”

“A _few_ pounds?” gawked Thomas. Three pounds was his monthly wage, and Jimmy got even less. They didn’t dream of giving up ‘a few’ pounds.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be that much,” said Eleanor. “But if you want to buy anything in this time, you’ll need the right currency. How ‘bout I tell you if it’s a good deal once she gives you the price?”

The pair exchanged looks and decided that this was a reasonable way to go about it. After all, they might not even be able to return to their time – but then again, if they did, they’d likely get fired for disappearing without a trace for several days…

As the trio entered the shop, they were welcomed by a distinct smell of antiques. Their presence was announced by a little bell that hung above the door.

There were no customers. Behind the counter sat a tall, thin woman with a bob haircut, wearing a black outfit with some white and grey patterns. Thomas and Jimmy were taken aback by her bold makeup – black lipstick, dark eyeshadow, and along with some dangly silver earrings she also had a pierced eyebrow.

“Elle,” she greeted her friend. “Oh, have you found us some customers?” she asked excitedly, eyeing Thomas and Jimmy up and down.

Eleanor smiled. “Yes, actually. Alice, this is Thomas Barrow and Jimmy Kent. They’re old friends of mine.”

“Hiya,” greeted the young woman. “I’m Alice. Love your outfits! Very vintage.”

Thomas gave her black nails a suspicious look, but shook her hand nonetheless. Jimmy did the same. She was nice, but they thought her bubbly and excitable nature was a strange contrast to her dark fashion sense.

“Buying or selling?” she asked and circled forward from behind the counter, revealing her terribly un-ladylike boots.

“Selling,” Eleanor answered in their stead. “They have a few banknotes from the twenties.”

“Ohh,” Alice squeaked enthusiastically. “Alright, show me, then.”

Eleanor gave her friends a nod, encouraging them to reach into their pockets. Thomas reservedly brought out a 10 shilling note.

Alice carefully examined it. “Wow, this is in great condition,” she said, impressed. “That could easily sell for around 100£, I’d say.”

 _God, that’s a fortune! At least- in our time…_ “Is that a lot?” Thomas whispered to Eleanor who nodded discreetly, even though Alice seemed so busy she wouldn’t notice anyway.

“Where did you get it? That’s a lovely find!”

“I have one too,” Jimmy jumped in and put onto the counter one of his own banknotes. He wouldn’t let Thomas have all the attention; he also wanted to exchange some money for whatever the futuristic currency was like.

“Oh, from the same era,” Alice said excitedly. “Wonderful! They can sell as a set.”

“There’s something else we’re hoping to find,” Eleanor said when Alice proceeded to pay Thomas and Jimmy for their money. “We’ll check the warehouse for some books on… magic, time travel… that sort of stuff,” she explained, avoiding being too specific. “If I recall correctly, we don’t have anything like that out on display?”

Alice shook her head. “There’s novels, mostly. Other stuff’s in the back. I can help you search, as soon as I finish with this,” she said and tapped the box she had on the counter. “An older gentleman brought it this morning. There were some pretty cool gadgets, but there’s some- like this one- I’ve no clue what this is,” she said, fishing out a small silver thing and placing it onto the counter. It looked perhaps the most like two fancy thimbles, connected in the middle. “The man who brought it didn’t know what it was either. I’ve been googling it all morning.”

“This?” Jimmy asked, taking the item in hand. “The Crawleys have similar ones. They bring ‘em out for special occasions.”

“It’s a strawberry grabber,” Thomas explained. “It’s for… well, grabbing strawberries.”

The two women stared at them.

“Who’s ‘the Crawleys’?” asked Alice in confusion.

“Uh, just some friends,” Thomas quickly intervened. “They have a lot of… antiques in their home too.”

 _He’s getting the hang of this,_ thought Eleanor and smiled to herself.

Alice googled the item and found that the man had identified it correctly. Both women were very impressed, and by noon Thomas and Jimmy had successfully identified several items that Alice and Eleanor had stored in the warehouse but were unable to label.

They continued by searching for books that could answer their own questions, but here they weren’t making much progress. There were many old books in the shop, but very few of them dealt with the supernatural, if that was even the right word. Even fewer of these books had any potentially useful information. There was a ton about magic potions and brews, clairvoyance, amulets – but nothing on time travelling or different dimensions.

After a few hours of browsing, they decided to call it quits for the day, and they headed home.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” Eleanor said, trying to cheer up Thomas and Jimmy’s disappointed faces. “There’s still one shelf we hadn’t gone through, and there are a few boxes in the attic that Alice and I hadn’t even checked yet. And if that fails, there’s always the library and more googling.”

In response, she was met by two pensive expressions.

“What if we…” began Jimmy quietly. “What if we _can’t_ go back?”

“Don’t say that,” Eleanor interrupted. “If you got here somehow, you’re going to get back,” she was certain. “We’ll find a way. Now, tell me something about your time. Your friends, family. What are they like?” she asked, trying to get them to think of something nicer.

“I don’t have any family left,” shrugged Jimmy. He looked at Thomas, thinking to himself that if nothing else, at least he’s got a friend. The notion made him feel quite calm. “I’ve got Thomas, he’s my best mate,” he said, managing a small smile when Thomas’s surprised expression looked back at him. “There’s mostly people we work with,” Jimmy continued. “Ivy, Daisy… Alfred’s fine too, but he can be a pain in the arse. Though I guess I do miss him a little by now-”

Suddenly, they heard a piercing screech of tyres, and then a crash. Thomas was lying on the floor, his limbs entwined into a bundle with those of the cyclist and his bike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this one, I did a bit of research on the wages of domestic servants in the early 20th century, and checked for how much money from the 1920s tends to sell for on ebay. I hope my conclusions aren't completely off :P  
> and yes, strawberry grabbers did exist.


	6. Chapter 6

Thomas was resting in bed after the accident. Taking him to the hospital wasn’t the best idea – he technically was and was not a UK citizen. If the doctors happened to ask for some papers or his medical record, Thomas, of course, couldn’t provide them, and who knows where things would go from there. Luckily, it didn’t look like he was too badly hurt apart from a couple of bruises and a minor headache. His jacket got torn, however, and Eleanor had decided to take them shopping for some ‘contemporary’ clothes, as soon as he felt better.

Jimmy was sitting on a chair beside him, having just taken his own stuff over to the couch and brought Thomas’s into the guest bedroom.

“You don’t have to stay here, Jimmy,” the other man said. “I’m fine, really.”

“But I want to,” Jimmy insisted, eyes scanning Thomas’s bruised forehead. _Déjà vu,_ he thought to himself. _Only this time, you’re in a nicer bed, and it weren’t my fault you got hurt… but why do I still feel like shite lookin’ at you in this state?_

“I just want to get some rest.”

“I’ll be quiet.” _Why don’t you want me here?_

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “You’ll sit here, watch me sleep? Doesn’t sound very entertaining.”

Jimmy looked away, realizing how daft his idea sounded, spoken aloud. “Well… what if you get worse?”

“I won’t,” Thomas assured him. “Besides, you’ll be in the other room if I need anything.”

Jimmy had to agree. He wasn’t even sure why he insisted so much… he just wanted to be there.

“Alright,” he nodded and stood up, his hand reflexively reaching for Thomas’s shoulder – their eyes locked in a shared look of uncertainty. Jimmy realized what he was doing, but kept his hand there for a second, giving Thomas’s shoulder the smallest reaffirming squeeze. Then he slowly removed his hand and cleared his throat. “Well, I- um, have a nice rest then,” he mumbled awkwardly before he exited the room.

 _Jesus, Jimmy, what the hell?_ He plopped onto the couch, burying his flushed face into his hands. _You’re just worried about him, ‘s’all,_ he thought. _Sure, he’s only a little bit bruised, but what would you do if something worse had happened to him?! What would you do without his company?_ _Who would you chat with during smoke breaks? Who would you have all those witty conversations with? Alfred?_ he scoffed, comparing the redheaded footman’s wit and humour with Thomas’s. It was no competition. _And you’d miss Thomas’s smile. He smiles so rarely, but that makes it all the more beau-_

He shifted anxiously in his seat and shook his head. _When did you get so soft, Jimmy!_

It wasn't even as much about _where_ he was – it was simply Thomas’s absence that was frightening. That alone, with no further context, made Jimmy’s heart sink. _Is that how mates normally feel about each other?_ But Jimmy knew for certain that he didn’t feel that way about Alfred, nor Daisy, nor Ivy.

He thought about the couple on the bench they'd seen earlier today. Kissing in the broad daylight, just like that! It was insane and bizarre and remarkable. No one batted an eye. It didn’t even look _that_ wrong… There was something about the situation that made Jimmy almost… envious. He wondered how Thomas felt about it.

_But what if- what if Thomas will want to stay now? He wouldn’t go to prison in this time, not even if he kissed a bloke in the street, in front of everyone! I’d have to go back all alone. But maybe I don’t want to go… Maybe we could both stay. The Crawleys will surely have sacked us by now. They’ll probably think we’re dead in a ditch somewhere._

He didn’t know what it was, but something inside Jimmy began craving for the freedom of this time. He wanted to go back, but he also didn’t. When he thought about his own time, it felt as if he could never really take a deep breath – but this time was making him feel like he could finally breathe a lungful of air like never before. He wasn't quite sure why, but he knew that it filled him with a sense of longing. A bittersweet feeling of liberation that he was well aware didn’t exist in his own time. 

Jimmy knew he wasn’t going to bed yet. He couldn’t sleep alone, and definitely not with a head full of thoughts and worries and what-ifs.

It was pretty late, but Eleanor must have still been up. The door of her room was ajar, an amber glow of light flowing out into the hallway.

Jimmy slowly walked over and peeped in. “Eleanor?” he asked, and a head of long brown hair turned towards him from behind the desk.

“Oh, Jimmy, come in. But please – call me Elle. I’ve never been Eleanor in my life,” she smiled and invited him in.

Jimmy curiously approached, blinking into the lit up screen of her computer. “What are you doing?”

“I’m looking at your time,” she replied. “The 1920s. Since we couldn’t find anything useful in those books at the shop, I thought I’d try the internet again. This here, see,” she said and pointed to the screen. “It's like a very condensed history book. This page, for example – it tells you about what the world was like in your time. The government, the people, the customs…”

Jimmy’s eyes lit up for a second. “Does it say anything about me?”

Eleanor smiled. “I don’t think so... it’s the important people who are in here, mostly. Kings and queens, noblemen, inventors, politicians-”

“The Crawleys?" Jimmy wondered. "They’re pretty important.”

“Well, there’s a few things about 'em, but not much. Not about individuals, at least. More about their house, the first and last earls of Grantham, the relevant ones...”

“Who’s the last one?” the blonde man asked curiously and pulled over a chair to sit beside her.

"Um..." She slowly closed the laptop. “Maybe let’s leave that for another time.”

Jimmy pondered on something for a moment, rubbing his hands together, seemingly nervous to ask the question that had appeared in his mind. “Could you show me – if you have some time – how to use this um... top-something, is it?”

The young woman smiled. “Lap top,” she corrected him. “Sure. The basics should be easy enough, but there's plenty you can do here. What are you interested in? Pictures, videos...

“Answers,” Jimmy stated clearly. “Like you were doing before.”

A shadow of concern washed over Eleanor's face. “You want to look up things about Downton?”

“No, but-" Jimmy furrowed his brow. "Why? Would that be a bad thing?”

The young woman shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she pondered. “Maybe it’s best you don’t know that.”

Jimmy looked at her in bewilderment.

“Look,” she proceeded to explain. “What if you coming here changed something in the past? If whatever you might read about that particular past only happened because you two were somehow transported here? What if history would be different if you were never here? What if it changes after you leave?”

Jimmy hadn’t thought of all these possibilities. They made his head hurt a bit. “How could we have changed the past if we went into the future?”

“Well, _my_ past,” elaborated Eleanor. “Your future. But the future before this future.”

This confused Jimmy even further. “Well, who’s to say we did? If we stayed, would we be changing the future too? Or the past?”

“I don’t-” Eleanor's brows knitted together in confusion. “Hang on – you want to stay?”

“No,” Jimmy quickly replied. “I just- just want to learn a bit about this world. Can you teach me, please? Promise I won’t look up the past about Downton. Future. Whatever. Just show me whatever you think is fine.”

Eleanor sighed but smiled. “Alright, come here, then,” she said. “Let's learn to google.”

Jimmy chortled at the word. _  
_

“It’s what this thing’s called,” Eleanor elaborated and pointed to the screen. “And what you do when you type in and click ‘search’. You 'google' something. Look it up.”

“You click... and _it_ searches for the answer?”

Eleanor nodded.

“So you do nothing? Just wait?” Jimmy asked in disbelief. “How long?”

“Oh it's mere seconds. But not everything that pops up is useful. Sometimes it’s hard to find the exact page you need and- you know what, let's just learn the basics.”

Eleanor made herself a cup of coffee and for Jimmy some tea since he preferred it. They sat by the desk long into the night. Eleanor taught him how to type first. It seemed to take him forever to manage it, but it was fun. They wrote a few sentences with no pen and ink, on a paper that was not paper. They looked up pictures of animals which Jimmy had never seen in real life, looked up weird new words like ‘Netflix,’ which was like the motion pictures, but you didn't even have to leave the house! And then they listened to music, some strange and some interesting. Jimmy wasn’t too fond of most of the contemporary stuff, but he did like these four ‘timeless musicians’ – as Eleanor called them – which were, funnily enough, called after a bug.

However, Jimmy wouldn’t tell Eleanor what sort of ‘answers’ he initially wanted to look up – he didn’t forget – he just didn’t want to search for them now, in front of her. Maybe some other time…

Eleanor even taught him how to use a ‘modern’ telephone – not her black block, but she had a phone in her apartment that still had numbers on it and was much easier to use. No cables, no operators, no two separate mouth- and ear-pieces. Very convenient. They would try it a few times – Jimmy would type in the numbers that Eleanor wrote on the piece of paper, and her black block would ring in some song-like tune.

“I want to show this to Thomas in the morning,” announced Jimmy, excited about his new skill.

Eleanor smiled proudly. “Now if something happens, you’ll know how to call me.” She drafted her name down onto the piece of paper with the number. “I’m going to work tomorrow morning, you guys can stay here – do whatever you like, just don’t touch the stove, I don’t want my flat burning down,” she added with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll bring back some books that could help with your situation, and we can go over them later in the day.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AnD tHErE wAs onLy OnE bED!

When Jimmy woke up, he noticed that Eleanor had already left. He lay in bed - or rather, on the couch - for a while longer, buried in the softness of the pillows and covers, savouring this remarkable turn his life had taken. Eventually, he got up and poured himself a glass of water, then checked on Thomas. He was still asleep.

Jimmy made sure not to make too much noise when he went into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth and hair. He put on a fresh shirt, then grabbed himself a piece of rather plain-tasting toast from the counter. He reached into the fruit basket for an apple too, though that didn’t help much. He wondered if he could go to the hotel restaurant – he wasn’t sure they’d let him in without Eleanor, but he also didn’t want to go without Thomas.

He sauntered around the apartment a bit, inspecting the furniture and decorations, some kind of a 'condensed' version of a rather plastic-looking piano which he really wanted to hear the sound of, but he didn't dare do more than gently brush his fingers over it. He stood by the windows for a moment, observing the view that still hadn’t ceased to amaze him, and then he circled back to the guest bedroom, his thought persistently returning there. He quietly opened the door and tiptoed in. He just wanted to make sure _he_ was alright.

There was something about Thomas sleeping so peacefully that made Jimmy happy. He could observe him without feeling strange or guilty about it. His skin was like marble, white and unblemished, black hair and dark eyebrows a contrast against it. His lips too – always a shade of light red, as if they were wine-stained. Jimmy had noticed them before, of course - though 'noticed' might not be the right word... Sometimes when they stood outside in the courtyard and chatted, Jimmy would glance over at Thomas; watch him bring up a cigarette to his mouth and take a drag. He would notice those red lips contrasting against the whiteness of Thomas's chiselled cheeks, but he could never _look_. It wasn’t something mates did, especially if they had the history that Thomas and Jimmy had between them.

Jimmy always made himself look away – but right _now_ he felt comfortable letting his eyes linger. Not only because Thomas couldn’t see him, but also because the rules of propriety didn’t really apply to this time. For heaven’s sake, what a strange picture they made – Thomas asleep, in his pyjamas, and Jimmy casually sitting beside him in his (though not _really_ his) bedroom. Back at Downton, it would have been shocking. Here, it didn’t seem wrong.

 _Would it still be alright if I touched him?_ wondered Jimmy to himself. _Here, of course. Not at Downton. I wouldn’t do that back home, that would be weird – but here…_

He reached towards Thomas’s cheek; he could almost feel the warmth of his skin under his fingertips. But less than an inch away from Thomas's face, Jimmy’s hand changed course, moving towards Thomas’s hand instead. Jimmy could feel his own heart beating out of his chest. His fingers were only a hair’s breadth away from touching the back of Thomas’s hand – but then Jimmy froze in place and pulled his hand back.

He let out a disappointing sigh. _I do care about you, you know,_ he told Thomas in his mind and pretended that he could hear him. _I just don’t know how to show you._

He let his eyes rest on Thomas a second longer, and then he returned to the living room. He wrestled with his feelings for a few moments, but ultimately decided to go to Eleanor’s room.

 _It’s now or never,_ he told himself. _You bloody well aren’t going to look that up in front of her or anyone else, so do it now, or forget about it!_

He slowly opened the door of the young woman's bedroom, as if he was expecting to get caught. But of course, the room was empty. He sat down by the desk, just like they had done yesterday, and observed the device in front of him. Eleanor must have checked something before she left, because the computer was on. Jimmy hadn’t actually considered what he would do if it were turned off – he had only learned to browse, not much else – but he thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t have to worry about overcoming that obstacle.

There were many icons – he remembered they were called icons – but he didn’t know or care what purpose they served. He opened the browser, looked over his shoulder again to make sure that he really was alone in the apartment and that Thomas was still sleeping, and then proceeded to slowly type with in what he had been intending to look up.

His palms were sweaty and hands slightly shaking as he pressed the characters on the keyboard. He felt like it took him forever, but eventually he managed to type in the following question: ‘Can a man love another man?’

Enter.

He was hardly prepared for the flood of information that suddenly became available at the reach of his fingertips. Jimmy could read, of course, but it was harder with that damned bright screen! _Why forsake books in favour of this?_

There were articles with different titles that contained some sort of variation of his question, but just briefly glancing at them, Jimmy could tell that not all of them would hold the answer he was after. He wanted to rephrase the question, but he accidentally clicked ‘pictures.’

That was an experience.

There were photos of men kissing, holding hands, hugging each other and smiling. Jimmy’s eyes widened and he swallowed dryly, scrolling down, half appalled and half fascinated. His eyes landed on a picture of a tall, _shirtless,_ black-haired man. Jimmy felt his pulse go up. _God, he kind of looks like-_

He panicked and clicked the ‘x’ icon in the upper right corner, closing everything. He took a few breaths to calm himself, then he tried again.

A hot blush crept up his neck as he typed in very bluntly: ‘Can I be homosexual?’

The familiar name of that ‘history book’ website caught Jimmy’s eye, and he clicked on it. Even though it was extensive, he read through some bits that stood out. _‘Research shows that homosexuality is a normal and natural variation in human sexuality… Homosexual relationships are equivalent to heterosexual relationships… Sexual orientation is linked to the intimate personal relationships that humans form with others to meet their needs for love, attachment, and intimacy… affection between partners, shared goals and values, mutual support, and ongoing commitment.’_

Jimmy read the text with open mouth, as it it were the most exciting adventure novel or a shocking murder mystery. _Is this true?_ he wondered, completely beside himself. _Does that mean it’s norm-_

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. He darted up, turning his head back in panic. It felt like his heart had stopped for a second.

Another knock.

Jimmy’s shaky hands fiddled with the mouse, trying to press the ‘x’ icon as fast as he could. When everything from the screen disappeared, he hastily left Eleanor's bedroom. He took a breath to calm himself down, ran a hand through his hair nervously, then then opened the door.

“Hello,” Peter the receptionist greeted him in a friendly tone. “Jimmy, right? I tried phoning the apartment, but no one answered. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

The blonde man shook his head. “Uh, no, no. ‘S fine.”

“Where’s Eleanor?” the tall man asked and peered into the room.

“She went to the shop,” replied Jimmy, looking back towards the coffee table where the note with her telephone number was.

“Ah,” breathed Peter and nodded.

“Did you need anything or…?”

“Oh, no, actually, I have some news for _you_ ,” the receptionist remembered and smiled. “Last minute cancellation. There’s a room free just one floor down. It’s a suite, but Elle said you’re fine with whatever price.”

“She did?” Jimmy mumbled under his breath and brought up a hand, stroking his neck. “Uh- that is, yes. We are.”

“Great,” smiled Peter. “I can take you there now if you want to have a look.”

“Thanks, but Thomas is still asleep, so I think-”

“I’m up,” a third voice chimed in. Thomas emerged from the guest room and slowly joined them, one hand over his ribs.

“Is everything alright?” Peter asked in concern, noticing the extensive line of scrapes and bruises along the length of Thomas’s elbow and some on his forehead. “What happened?”

“Minor accident,” replied the dark-haired man. “Nothing to worry about,” he brushed it off.

“Ok?” said Peter, a bit unconvinced. “Well then, I’ll wait for you to get dressed, and you can meet me by the elevators.”

A couple of minutes later, Thomas and Jimmy emerged from the apartment and the trio headed one floor down. Peter led them to room 211, tuned the key and opened the door wide. A very interesting picture was painted before their eyes.

There was a giant bed – only one – with fresh white sheets and fluffy pillows. But as they came closer, it became clear to Thomas and Jimmy that rose petals had been strewn all over it. There were towels, arranged to form the shapes of two swans, and in their middle was a large basket which contained everything from a bottle of champagne to two glasses, a box of chocolates, and some smaller trinkets.

The two men exchanged bewildered looks.

“It was booked by a couple. Some special offer for Valentine’s day,” Peter explained to two very stunned faces. “They'll come and clean it away, no worries,” he said and grabbed the gift basket, placing it on a cupboard opposite the bed. “Then again, this thing - I guess it’d be a shame to let some of these go to waste,” he smiled, tapping the champagne bottle. “There's good stuff in here. You don't have to be a lovey-dovey couple to enjoy some champagne, huh? I'll leave that here," he said and smiled. "As for the beds, they can be separated,” he added and lifted the sheets, showing that there were two separate bed frames. “I’ll send someone up to fix that as soon as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpts about homosexuality are paraphrased and taken from Wikipedia.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one where people find interesting things. And ‘intenert’.

“Ugh,” grunted Eleanor, having finished with yet another box of books in the shop’s attic.

Alice emerged from downstairs with two cups of tea. “Still nothing?”

The other woman let out a sigh and leaned against the wall. “Nothing. How’s it possible that there isn’t _one_ decent thing on time travelling? I know it’s more futuristic as far as the topic goes, but that’s why I brought these,” she said and pointed to a pile of books she had borrowed from the library before work. “But still nothing, not here, not there! All there is is fiction! Fairy tales.”

“Perhaps that’s what time travelling is,” said Alice and raised her eyebrow. She sat down beside her friend, offering her one of the cups in her hand. “Here, I’ll help you. You know the shop’s never busy, and if someone does come, they’ll ring. Now why on earth are you so interested in time travelling?”

Eleanor tried to brush it off, avoiding Alice’s stare. “Just am,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

The other woman assessed her. “I know you’re up to something, Elle. I’ve known you for too long.”

“Look, if I find what I’m looking for, I’ll tell you,” Eleanor said. She didn't consider whether she _truly_ intended to keep her word.

Alice had no choice but to take that answer. She started checking the boxes in the corner and stopped by a larger one in the back. “Oh, that one’s actually yours,” she exclaimed, browsing through its contents.

With these words, she immediately had Eleanor's attention. The brunette woman got off the floor and joined her friend. An aura of curiosity surrounded them both.

“I remember, I brought it ages ago. I wanted to sell some things, store the rest, but we never went through it.” Eleanor fished out a small jewellery box, smiling nostalgically. “Oh, Nana’s rings…” Her unfortunate quest with the books lay on the floor, momentarily forgotten.

“Sheet music,” announced Alice, flicking through a thin book. “Didn’t you say your granddad played?”

“Great-granddad,” Eleanor corrected her. “It’s one of the few things I know about him. He never learned, but he had a talent for music, apparently. Grandpa always said so.” 

“Oh, that’s pretty,” Alice held up a small, tattered, leather-bound book. “Diary?”

“This one’s old. Must be great-granddad too.” She took the offered book and opened it on the first page. “Edward Carter, that’s him. I remember seeing this when I was younger, but you know what diaries were like back in the day – just a dull enumeration of events. Not terribly interesting,” she said with a smile, but as she turned to the next page, a photo flew out.

“Oh.” Alice reached for it and took a brief look. “Was this randomly inserted or…?”

Eleanor furrowed her brow in confusion. She gave it a quick glance too, but she didn't recognize the black and white picture. It wasn't her great-grandfather, it was older. ‘1919’ was hand-written in the upper corner. There were some servants, men and women, posing in front of a manor. She proceeded to skim through the diary page where the photograph had been inserted.

_‘25 May 1948. Visited Mother in the morning… regrettably, she's feeling worse. On her-’_

_Oh, my god._

_‘- deathbed, she told me some shocking news… Fred Carter was not my real father–’_

_What the-  
_

_‘–But rather some man called-’_

“Elle,” Alice called, but Eleanor didn’t hear her. She felt a momentary petrifying deafness engulf her when she read the name.

_‘She had photo to prove it, but this changes nothing. Fred Carter was my father. A good father and a good man – an even better one if Mother’s words are true.’_

“Elle,” Alice called again, nudging Eleanor with her elbow, finally getting some attention from the other woman. “Elle, what does it say? My god, look, this picture–” she insisted, shoving the photograph in her face.

The quality was too poor to say anything for certain – but one of the men in the livery… that unmistakable side-swept blonde lock… it was quite enough to send shivers down Eleanor’s spine.

* * *

Thomas and Jimmy stayed in 211. The petals and towels had been removed, the beds separated, two small bedside tables put in between, providing roughly half a metre of distance between them. The hunger got the better of the two men, and they decided to go to the restaurant. No one questioned them and they managed to have a decent meal. But when they returned to their new room, they didn’t really know what to do with their time, so they sat together, going through the rest of the contents of the basket.

“Oh my-” Jimmy gasped, gawking at the item in his hand.

Thomas leaned over to see. “What is it?”

He noticed Jimmy’s blushing face as the blonde man tried to hide whatever he’d found under the complimentary soaps. “Um- nothing…”

“Well, I can see it's _something,_ ” said Thomas and reached into the basket. “What could it- Oh.”

Jimmy avoided his eyes. “Yes - 'Oh,'" he said dryly. "They’re what I think they are, aren’t they?”

He’d seen them before. They were distributing them in the war as they apparently prevented diseases, though they didn’t come in packages as fancy and brightly coloured as this. But Jimmy wasn’t an idiot; he could read and he could feel the shape, if nothing else. _Why put them in a gift basket, though? How’s that a 'gift' for a couple?_

He glanced back at Thomas, whose face had also gone a shade of scarlet. He slowly put the small rectangular package back into the basket.

“Right,” he cleared his throat and stood up, grimacing slightly because of his injuries. “On that note, I think I’ll have a look at the rest of the room.”

Jimmy joined him. Even though this room was much smaller that Eleanor’s apartment, it was still just as grand as any of the rooms at Downton - rooms not meant for servants, of course. The beds were huge and comfortable, the linens fresh, the carpet soft, the view just as stunning as from one floor up, despite the balcony being smaller. Getting to experience the luxury life, on par with that of the Crawleys, made Jimmy feel rather grand and important - even if it was only for a short while. Why _shouldn’t_ he live like this? Him and Thomas deserved it too, they worked hard – yet all their lot would ever get back in their time was a scolding from a superior if they dared to do as much as sit in an armchair in their master’s absence.

But then again, it was Eleanor who was letting them stay here. How will they repay her? They could probably never afford to stay at a place like this, not with their wages. So besides that one little thing of blokes being allowed to kiss in the streets, was it really any better here?

As he admired the furniture, Jimmy opened one of the cupboards and his eyes widened. “Thomas,” he called excitably.

The other man walked over to him, staring into the insides of the cupboard. “Is this a… a refrigerator?” he asked, putting his hand in between the few bottles and feeling how cold it was.

“I think so,” Jimmy replied. “Why on earth do they have a tiny refrigerator in a _bedroom?_ And there’s only alcohol in it.”

Thomas shook his head. “I’ve no idea.”

Jimmy sighed and closed the minibar. “I miss our time," he said lowly. "Not the work. I do kind of like it here, but I wouldn’t mind having normal things, not all this futuristic stuff. A deck of cards would be nice for starters. And I miss the people. I’d give anything to hear old Carson’s voice, yelling at me for not polishing the sliver properly.”

Thomas smiled. “I know what you mean. I kind of miss bossing people around, I can do it instead of Carson if you’d like.”

Jimmy grinned, allowing his eyes to linger on Thomas’s smirking face for a moment. “But honestly, don’t you want to go back?” he asked with a bit of reservation.

“I do,” nodded the other man and gave him a little smile. “I like the freedom, and I like being stuck here with you, but I also feel a bit... out of place and useless.”

Jimmy smiled back. “You're not useless," he said quietly, barely louder than a whisper. He cleared his throat. "I like being stuck here with you too.” It was said casually, but their eyes met for a second, and something unspoken was shared between them. Jimmy felt his stomach drop with an unusual feeling, a bit nervous and giddy, but also warm and elated. He wanted to _do_ something, but he couldn’t prompt himself to it.

“Elle said she’d bring some more books when she comes back. Hopefully, we find something there,” he said to change the topic. “And we browsed the intenert yesterday, you know?”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “ ‘Intenert?’ ”

Jimmy proudly nodded, and one corner of his lips lifted up. “She taught me how to type into the computer, and how to use the telephone.”

“Did she?” asked Thomas curiously.

“Not the black block, though. The telephones in guestrooms. Here, I’ll show you,” Jimmy said, his eyes bright and excited. He stepped over to the landline phone on the wooden cabinet opposite the beds.

Thomas smiled to himself. The creases of Jimmy’s cheeks when he smiled, the little dimples and folds. The beaming white smile, that mischievous spark in his eyes. Sometimes, he liked to pretend it was all for him.

“You simply type in the number, press this button,” Jimmy explained and demonstrated. “And then put it up against your ear and wait for the other person to pick up.”

“Like that? But where’s the mouthpiece?” asked Thomas, trying to mimic how Jimmy did it. He held the phone up awkwardly, mostly just to his ear.

Jimmy smiled. “It’s just this, that’s both parts,” he replied. “And you hold it more like _that_.” He pressed his hand over Thomas’s to move the phone a bit lower against his cheek.

Had Thomas's breath not brushed against his skin, Jimmy wouldn't have registered how close together they were standing. For a second, their hands one over the other felt perfectly natural. Somehow, seconds were slowed down to minutes. Their eyes met, and Jimmy noticed a certain discomfort in Thomas’s stare – but there was something else too. A pull, a wish. A desire.

Then suddenly, the corners of Thomas’s lips lifted into a casual smile; his eyes, however, remained cautiously reserved. “This time is truly full of wonders, isn’t it?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally beginning to move forward. ;) Nothing particularly explicit yet, but rated E for upcoming chapters.

They were sitting on the balcony, watching the sunset, learning to embrace their uselessness and rather enjoying it.

“For all it’s worth, you did get your champagne,” commented Thomas, taking a sip of his drink. The complimentary box of chocolates lay on the small table between them, open and half eaten. “And you’ve basically travelled the world - now all you need are some pretty women.”

Jimmy smiled. “I think I have all I need for now,” he replied. He raised his glass. “To you. For not getting run over to death,” he smirked.

“That would be a tragedy,” Thomas said sarcastically, “What would you do without me?” he grinned, but Jimmy’s smile faltered.

“Don’t,” he objected.

“Oh, but it’s fine when you do it?” teased Thomas.

“Just don’t-” Jimmy wasn't sure why it bothered him so much. He looked away, his words mumbled quietly. “Don’t think you care more for me than I do for you. ‘Cause I _do_ care.”

Thomas didn't expect it - raw honesty, unseasoned by some underlying sarcasm or cynicism was a rare thing from Jimmy’s end. Thomas searched his eyes, searching for the reason for it. He couldn’t find it; all he ever saw was what he wanted to see, and that couldn’t be it. That specific unfortunate event was long behind them, but nothing would erase it. It came back every now and then, tasting bitter in Thomas's mouth when he remembered it, drawing a line between them. An awkwardness that hung in the air. He knew that Jimmy's heat was in the right place, he always knew that; and they were friends now, of course Jimmy cared. But there was something strange in how he'd been acting since they arrived to this time.

They stayed silent for a moment, both looking out into the distance until Jimmy spoke again.

“Thomas? Those two blokes we saw yesterday…”

 _Ah… that,_ Thomas could already hear the end of his sentence. _You were disgusted by it, shocked, appalled._

“D’you think they were…”

_Sinners? Going to hell?_

“In love?”

_Oh. Wait- that’s what you’re asking?_

Jimmy waited for the answer.

“Uh… probably,” Thomas shrugged, giving him a smile. “Didn’t look like they hated each other.”

“You know what I mean,” Jimmy insisted with sincere interest. _‘Love, attachment, and intimacy…’_ “Can two _blokes_ really be in love? Like a man and a woman?”

“You’re asking _me_ that?”

“Well, you’re the expert.” _‘…Normal and natural.’_ “You think it’s _natural_?” he asked quietly, looking down at his feet.

Thomas’s eyes stayed on Jimmy for a moment, then looked into the sky and scanned the horizon. Above the tall and densely cluttered buildings the first stars were beginning to appear.

“Is caring for another person not natural?” he said. He didn’t sound offended by Jimmy’s question, only weary, perhaps. “Wanting to make them happy, wanting to be happy with them?” His voice took on a shade of subtle resentment. “Why is it wrong to love a soul that happens to be in a body which you’re not supposed to desire?”

To that Jimmy had no reply. His eyes lingered on Thomas’s sun-lit face, the last amber rays of the day reflecting in his eyes. They weren’t truly far away from home, yet they were almost a whole century away – yet standing here, with this man by his side somehow made Jimmy feel content. He almost felt bad for not feeling that homesick anymore - not in this moment, at least. It was strange; no matter where he was he may have missed certain things, but he was never truly homesick with Thomas around.

“You’re my best friend,” said Jimmy quietly, out of context, turning his head to gaze into the sunset.

Thomas looked at him with heartfelt surprise.

“You’re my best friend too,” he said lowly, mirroring Jimmy and looking out to the horizon, smiling in a bittersweet way, as he always did whenever he was unexpectedly struck by love for Jimmy.

He felt a hand on his own – or rather only a finger – and from what was barely a touch, Jimmy’s whole hand slowly came to rest over Thomas’s.

He turned to Jimmy, but the blonde man did not look at him. There was tension in his face, as if he were wrestling with his emotions – but nonetheless, there was also stubborn determination. Thomas didn’t know whether it was this determination that made Jimmy’s hand linger, or if it was preventing Jimmy from doing something else.

He didn’t move his hand. If Jimmy touched him willingly, he wasn’t going to fight it. He could not. It was threatening to rekindle something in his heart, but he refused to lose the moment. He let himself drink it in; let his heart get drunk on this sip of bliss, because it may well have been a dream, a mere blink.

He glanced towards Jimmy again and felt that gut wrenching invisible wall between them. He wanted to kiss his face into a smile. He wanted Jimmy to look at him and feel the love he felt for him. He wanted to touch Jimmy and have the same warm feeling of elation rush through Jimmy’s veins that Thomas felt at times when their hands accidentally brushed against each other. He didn’t want to take – he wanted to give, and it tore his heart into shreds because he couldn’t. He couldn’t give the same love and more of it to the man who was his world. He could only give a fraction of it to his friend.

“Jimmy,” he whispered, uncertain what he was asking. He just wanted Jimmy to look at him.

The blonde man swallowed, then turned his head slowly, avoiding Thomas’s eyes. He looked at their hands and gave a gentle squeeze.

His voice was quiet. “Do you ever wonder... if you were born in a different world, in a different time - would you still have to run away from yourself?”

 _Don’t._ Thought Thomas. _Don’t give me hope._

Jimmy leaned closer, his eyes travelling up to Thomas’s lips. It made the other man’s stomach drop with desire. Those soft, parted lips, mere inches away. _God damn it, Jimmy-_

But those lips leaned closer still, and brushed against Thomas’s – not just brushed, Jimmy pressed them gently but fully on Thomas’s. Thomas felt frozen in place, transported into a dream. He parted his lips a bit, allowing Jimmy to take them between his own, mark them with his inexplicable gesture. A second later Jimmy moved to lean away, but Thomas placed his hand on his neck, holding him there, their foreheads touching.

 _You're here, you're real. I can feel you._ “Wh-what are you doing?” Thomas whispered.

“Don’t know,” replied Jimmy, his voice low and shaky. His body was trembling with desire and some oddly natural yet unknown feelings. He licked his bottom lip, and Thomas felt a hot, tingling sensation run down to his crotch.

He lunged forward, reckless – but Jimmy did too, and their lips met again, this time with more urgency; as if one taste prompted a hunger so great it was impossible to keep at bay.

* * *

_It’s just some weird, bizarre coincidence,_ Eleanor kept telling herself as she walked into the lobby of the hotel, enveloped in the din of her thoughts, hardly seeing or hearing anything around her. _Doppelgangers exist- but with the same name? 1919- God, and now Alice knows, fuck!_

She nearly bumped into an elderly lady who gave her a very reproachful look.

_You could’ve made something up- I would have, if that damn photo didn’t scare the living shit out of me… at least she didn’t read the diary- Oh man, but her idea is the best thing so far – and it’s ridiculous!_

“Elle!”

_Jesus, that photo- that would make him my- but we don’t even look alike! The eyes, maybe, but-  
_

“Elle,” Peter’s voice brought Eleanor back down to earth. “Hey there, stranger,” he greeted her with a friendly smile. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this caught up in thoughts. Don’t worry – I’ll let you go in a minute, just have some news for ya.”

She smiled back, even though she really wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat. “Pete, hi. What’s up?”

“I found a room for your friends. There was a cancellation; I took them to 211 this morning. They already have the key, and we've moved their stuff.”

“Oh, ok, great. Thanks...” Her thoughts kept returning to the topic that haunted her. _You HAVE TO find out if he’s really-_ “Right, well, if that’s all, I’ll just…”

She headed towards the elevators, but Peter followed her. “Actually, I’ve been wondering…” He rubbed his hands together nervously as he scurried after her. “If maybe you’d like to go see that new movie you talked about?”

“Um, what, just the two of us?” She furrowed her brow and pressed the elevator button.

Seeing her hesitation, Peter shook his head. “Ah, no. No, there’ll be others. Some of my other friends. Probably...”

“Probably,” slowly repeated Eleanor, giving him a questioning look. _Is he doing what I think he’s doing?_ “Ok, well, why not," she replied, stepping into the elevator, turning back towards him. One corner of her lips lifted upwards mischievously. " _Probably_."

Peter’s face lit up. “Great,” he breathed. “Friday, at eight,” he called after her right before the door closed.

When Eleanor arrived to her floor she knocked on the door of the room 211 twice, but there was no answer. She tried opening it, surprised to see that it was unlocked.

“Thomas, Jimmy?” she called and peeped in. The apartment was dark, but-

Two figures stood on the balcony, lit up by the moonlight. They were…

 _Kissing! Oh my…!_ Eleanor gawked for a moment, standing there stunned, unable to believe her eyes. _They’re… together? Holy sh-!_

When she regained control over her body, she closed her gaping mouth and slowly the door too. She waited in the hallway for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. _First the photo and now this- but wait – if he’s… then how?!? Oh god, just let it go for now!_

She cleared her throat and yelled this time. “THOMAS, JIMMY! GUYS! YOU IN HERE?”

After a few moments, she heard footsteps approaching. It was Jimmy who opened.

“Elle,” he greeted her, a bit out of breath and hair dishevelled. Had she not seen whose hand had been through it just seconds ago, she would have been surprised. She allowed herself a small smirk, but then she also remembered the photo and the smile faded away.

“Peter told me where you were. How’s the room?”

“You’re joking – it’s beyond wonderful,” replied Thomas, who had just joined them. “But again, Eleanor, we can’t pay for it.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about that?” Eleanor insisted, glancing at Jimmy suspiciously, trying to determine something, unsure what exactly. _If it’s true… your SON would build- oh, fuck- no._ _This is bizarre!_

She addressed Thomas again. “I see you’re doing better.” _  
_

Thomas nodded. “The headache’s gone, but my arm and ribs still hurt a little. Been in worse shape, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” said Eleanor. “Then I think we could go shopping tomorrow,” she added calmly, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions and confusion that raged inside her. It was late, she was tired, and her mind felt inadequate to process everything she’d seen today. “And there’s something else too – Alice has had an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will hopefully be posted the same time next week :)


	10. Chapter 10

They hadn’t talked about what happened yesterday evening. After Eleanor had left Jimmy simply went to bed, and Thomas decided to give him space. When he woke up, he thought he’d dreamt it all; but Jimmy was still avoiding him – as much as he could, considering they shared a room – and Thomas knew it was real. Jimmy kissed him, and he let himself be kissed. What would have happened if Eleanor hadn’t knocked on their door? Thomas was ready to confront Jimmy when they returned to the hotel. He understood what ‘running away from yourself’ meant. All the pieces had suddenly fallen into place, yet it was so outlandish that it was hard to believe.

Eleanor mentioned that she had told Alice about their situation, but not exactly _why_ she had to have done so. They were a bit concerned at first, but they accepted any help Alice could offer with her plan. Eleanor didn’t know much, but she said that her friend apparently knew a lady who could be more helpful than books and the internet have been so far.

But before they met with Alice, they went shopping. The clothing stores were quite a hectic place; large masses of people, loud music, bright lights – and the choices, Thomas and Jimmy learned, were overwhelming. Modern shoes looked like they leapt from the pages of a fantasy novel with their futuristic designs and bold colours. The shirts were quite comfortable and came in much more exciting patterns than those in the 1920s, at least considering what two working class blokes could afford.

Thomas tried on something called a ‘hoodie’, a type of a sweatshirt. It was very cosy – no starched collars or ties – but he felt he was terribly underdressed in it, even for a casual affair. He knew it would do him little good in his time; people would look at him like he’d escaped an asylum if he were to leave the house looking like that. Eleanor said it suited him, so he did agree to buy it, even though mainly just because he needed clothes in this time.

He never imagined he would come across socks with patterns of everything from animals to food. Plain black or white ones seemed to be scarce. _At least underwear must still look normal,_ he thought to himself, right before he nearly walked into a pair of bright red men’s briefs on display. _So much for that._

However, in another store he was mesmerized by an array of wrist watches. After having tried on an elegant black one, he decided to get it. It wasn’t _that_ different from watches in 1922, to be fair, it just had a futuristic feel to it. Maybe he could convince people that he bought it at some fancy place or even in America.

As for trousers, Thomas and Jimmy were persuaded to try on jeans, which were apparently what most people were wearing in this time. The downside was that these trousers were awfully tight, and neither of them fancied a pair. They eventually found some that weren’t _as_ tight-fitting as most of them, and exhausted as they were from trying on so many things, they bought them.

As they were queuing up in front of the cash register Jimmy remembered that he’d forgotten something, and Eleanor naturally went with him.

“You can’t go alone, you’ll get lost,” she called after this grown man, earning herself a few confused looks from the other customers. She hurried after Jimmy, leaving Thomas in the line.

“Eleanor, wait, I-”

“When it’s your turn give your things to the lady, pay, take the change and your things,” she instructed. “Wait for us by the entrance, you’ll be fine,” she said encouragingly and gave him a quick smile before she disappeared into the crowd after Jimmy.

The closer to the cash register that Thomas was the more nervous he got – but when it was his turn he did as he was instructed, and everything seemed to go fine. He got some money back and his clothes were packed into a nice bag.

He only waited a moment before he noticed Eleanor and Jimmy return. They paid for their things and joined him, and they all headed downtown to meet up with Alice.

To Eleanor, instead of finding answers and solutions everything was becoming more confusing and complicated – especially after she’d discovered an unusual browser history on her computer yesterday evening. She knew who it was, naturally. _Why were you googling it? You must be gay, you kissed him! People in your time didn’t kiss each other on the mouth casually. You went to jail for that stuff in the past!_ She hadn’t considered that she could have witnessed a first kiss.

Then there was yet a bigger mystery – the darn photo. She’d brought it home, diary and all. Maybe she could get the answers from Jimmy discretely, without revealing her true intentions? _Wait! How is he going to have children if he’s- Ah, if I only knew the exact year granddad was born! If he served in the Second World War, he had to have been eighteen or older. Unless… well, unless he lied about his age to get enlisted…_

Walking down the street, they spotted Alice approaching from afar; the closer she was, the more obvious her big grin. “Oh my god, oh my god!” she whispered to contain her enthusiasm. “This is so exciting! Eleanor’s told me! You’re like, real, actual people from the 1920s!” she declared, rather than asked, examining them both curiously.

Thomas and Jimmy didn’t like being surveyed like some exotic animals, but they were prepared for this reaction.

“Well, yes,” Thomas said quietly.

“Of course, that explains the money!” Alice let out an excited squeal. “Ahhh, and I knew something was up with your clothes! They’re far too good to be second-hand or from some vintage shop!”

She ran her hand up and down the sleeve of Jimmy’s arm, feeling the fabric. He stood still, giving Eleanor a concerned look.

“Ok, Alice,” Eleanor intervened, taking her by the hand and dragging her away from the uncomfortable Jimmy. “Let’s focus now, alright? We need to see that lady you mentioned could help.”

“Right, Mrs Clegg,” the black-haired woman nodded. “She doesn’t live far away, I have the address here.”

As they walked to her apartment, Alice explained about the woman. “She calls herself ‘the medium of the souls’. Everyone thinks she’s a bit whack, which might be true,” she shrugged, “but I’ve heard that those who’ve been to her have had rather obscure experiences.”

“What exactly does she do?” asked Jimmy, listening attentively and with interest.

“She can contact spirits, apparently,” Alice replied. “Communicate with them, banish the evil ones if need be.”

“There are many ‘obscure’ ladies who claim to be able to do that,” Eleanor noted sceptically.

“Besides, _we’re_ not spirits,” objected Thomas, taking a drag off his cigarette.

“No,” said Alice. “But you aren’t from this world. I mean, technically, you would’ve been dead for at least a few decades in this time- oh, that’s pretty mental when you think about it!”

Eleanor noticed the two men’s confused faces. “Ok, let’s get back to the point,” she said, attempting to mediate the situation.

“Well anyway, if she _can_ contact the spirits,” Alice continued, “she must know something about different dimensions and maybe even how travelling between them works, right? It’s worth a try.”

The apartment building where Alice led them was old, and it looked and smelled even older inside. They followed Eleanor’s friend to one particular apartment with dark rosewood door. They rang the bell, but there was no response. Alice tried the strange, brass, cat shaped knocker. Then suddenly, footsteps were heard, and the door swung open, letting out a strong scent of incense.

“Oooh, hello,” a warm voice greeted them. “How may I help-”

The woman stared at them for a second, as if taking in everything she could see before her, and something more, perhaps. She was wearing a red, oriental-looking shawl wrapped over her shoulders and several rows of beads and strange necklaces. She was short, her hair was grey but textured, and she had big round eyes, a very light, clear blue colour.

“Oh, I _see!_ ” she suddenly exclaimed. “I _see_ who you are, yes – welcome! Why, that _is_ fascinating! From… hmm… about a century ago? I rarely meet souls that old!”

The group exchanged looks of concern.

“Um, hello,” greeted Alice. “I’m Alice, this is Elle, Thomas and Jimmy, we-”

“Such _colourful_ auras,” the old woman interrupted. “A proper rainbow, aren’t you? And your lives connected in several ways.”

“We came to ask a few questions,” Eleanor added.

The woman’s face melted into a smile. “Yes, yes of course you have,” she said, and when she nodded the beads around her neck clattered. “I see you’ve come from a faraway place, my dears.” She focused on Thomas and Jimmy now, who were standing there like stunned.

She invited the group into the dimly lit apartment. It was daytime, but thick dark curtains obstructed the light from all but one small window. The smells of incense merged with those of old wooden furniture.

“You _‘see’_ that, then?” Thomas asked sceptically. “Who we are?”

“Not tangibly,” the woman replied, making an intense but not unkind eye contact with the man. “I see souls, roughly when they’re from, and I see that yours inhabit two different times.”

The four friends exchanged perplexed, yet intrigued looks.

“That’s why we’re here,” Eleanor quickly cut in. “If you _do_ see what you say you see, then tell us, please, how to… fix this situation.”

“Fix?” the woman asked. “I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid. I can’t even fix my coffee maker, dear.” Her smile had a melodic ring to it. “I can only tell you what I know, but _they_ must do the work,” she said, turning to Thomas and Jimmy.

“Well, we’d like to go back to our time,” said Thomas, and Jimmy nodded. “How do we do that?”

Without a word, the old lady walked over to the window which was the only source of light, and pressed her palm against the glass. “The gates between different dimensions are merely veils. Thin, transparent. Some who have a gift can see through them.”

The group observed her attentively.

“But these veils don’t open without a reason,” she stressed. “Oh no, there’s a reason for everything. Reason why you’re here. Why you’re here _together_.”

The men exchanged looks.

“And what _is_ that reason?” asked Eleanor.

The lady finally turned back to face her visitors. “ _I_ don’t know. Usually, there’s a lesson to be learned. It depends on the soul. I cannot say what _your_ lesson is,” she said to Thomas and Jimmy. “All I can tell you is that once you’ve learned it, the veil will open again. Same time, same place.”

“How will we know?” Jimmy wondered.

“You’ll know,” said the woman with a secretive smile. “Your souls cannot stay here forever. Once you’ve learned what you have to learn, they will reject this place. Like a fly, caught inside a room, flying into a window, unable to breach the invisible barrier. Once it learns that the barrier won’t be broken by force, it can learn to seek another way.”

“That makes no sense,” interrupted Thomas. “A fly learns nothing. You either open the window and let it out, or kill it. It won’t learn anything by itself.”

“But _you_ must,” smiled the old woman. “Because no one else can let you out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all of you who are following this story, and though I might fail to thank each of you individually, I'd like to leave my thanks here. You're awesome - an eager audience always makes the writer's work seem easier and more fun :)  
> Next chapter will be up same time next week :)


	11. Chapter 11

“We should talk about it,” said Thomas the moment they returned to their hotel room.

“About that crazy old bat and what she said – of course.” Jimmy was well aware of what Thomas _actually_ had in mind, but he tried to avid it regardless. “Did she really have to be so vague about it? What sort of help-”

Thomas cut him off slowly. “Jimmy… Us being stuck here _is_ a problem, yes – but you know what I mean.”

The blonde man sighed and walked over to him, looking a bit like a child waiting to be scolded for something they did. “You asked me why, and I told you. I don’t know,” he said quietly but insistently, glancing at Thomas to meet his eyes only for a fraction of a moment.

“It was a very different reaction to _that_ night,” Thomas said. He felt he wasn’t being quite fair – the mess that followed after that midnight kiss was _his_ fault, _he_ crossed the line back then – but still, he didn’t deserve what he got from Jimmy afterwards. And he had the right to be confused by what happened yesterday.

Jimmy continued to look down. Thomas’s words hit a vulnerable spot. “I’m sorry about that. You know I am,” he said earnestly.

Thomas shook his head. “I know. Of course I know.” He didn’t want to make Jimmy feel guilty, he only wanted to _understand._ “It’s in the past. I don’t hold it against you; truly, I don’t because I know you’ve forgiven me too. But Jimmy – if something’s changed… if you want-”

“I don’t know,” said Jimmy in an avoidant tone. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Rubbish!” Thomas refused to wear his heart on his sleeve for the second time. He won’t be played for a fool. _I can’t force anything out of you, but you kissed me – you kissed me again and again and you let me kiss you back, now bloody tell me why._ “You _do_ know how you feel, Jimmy. What was all that about running away from yourself?”

Jimmy rubbed his hands together nervously. “It was you. About you… Not me.”

Thomas lifted an eyebrow suspiciously. “Is that so?” He didn’t believe him, naturally. He saw what bottling it up was doing to him, and he knew it couldn’t last. “Jimmy, you can lie to me, but do stop lying to yourself.”

“It’s this place,” the blonde man said now and took a step closer to assert his point. “Here, everything seems possible, but back home…” His voice faltered and he kept looking down, as if searching for some invisible words strewn on the floor. “I wouldn’t dare, but now I do, and I-” He lowered his voice down to a whisper. “Whatever it was, it won’t _be_ that way at Downton.”

“And you think you’ll stop feeling it just because you won’t _be allowed_ to?” snapped Thomas, stepping forward. “All you’ll do is keep running away.”

“I’m not running away!”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

“Keep it down,” Jimmy hissed.

Thomas scoffed. “I can’t help you if you’re afraid of yourself, Jimmy. But you don’t get to do this to me.” His words were cold, but eyes hopeful. Jimmy could feel his warm breath against his skin, and smell a faint familiar scent of cigarettes.

They were standing mere inches apart. A short silence fell between them.

“Is it just because you want to see what it’s like? Kissing a bloke?” Thomas asked dryly – Jimmy saw that he was trying to distance himself, put his guard up, brace himself for a disappointing answer. “I need to know that, Jimmy-”

“No,” Jimmy insisted. “It’s not- _that._ ” He took a deep sigh and mustered the courage to look Thomas in the eye. “I’m not using you if that’s what you’re implying. I never wanted to hurt you,” he said with sincere remorse. “Never.”

“Then tell me what you want.”

“Thomas-”

“Tell me-”

“You, I want _you_!” The frustration inside him had reached the tipping point. Jimmy’s words echoed off the walls, leaving behind a veil of silence that enveloped them both. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest. “To be able to kiss you and not be terrified of what it means,” he whispered after a moment.

Thomas stared at him in disbelief, but with compassion and perhaps a relief of sorts. _You- you’ re serious._ It was bared before him – Jimmy’s pain, which he, too, knew very well; the fear, that feeling of being torn, trapped by not only your own but also by society’s confinements. _Oh, my love- you shouldn’t have to feel that way! You should never have to feel that way!_ He carefully lifted his hand up to Jimmy’s cheek. He wanted to touch him; he looked too distressed, to upset. Thomas wanted to wipe it away but his fingers trembled – or perhaps it was Jimmy who was trembling.

Their lips met unguarded, in a soft but urgent clash. Thomas kissed him cautiously at first, but when he was sure that Jimmy was meeting each of his kisses with equal desire he pulled him closer, his hand settling at the nape of Jimmy’s neck, fingers threading through his golden hair.

Jimmy parted his lips and let out a small moan. It sent waves of desire though Thomas’s body, burning hot in his lips and crotch. His other hand found Jimmy’s hip and Thomas trapped his legs between his own, grounding his hips against Jimmy’s thigh.

The blonde man was paralyzed from pleasure, from feeling Thomas’s arousal against his body. Thomas proceeded to kiss down his neck, tasting the salt and sweat of his skin, and feeling his rapid pulse against his tongue.

“Thomas,” Jimmy whispered helplessly.

“Is this what you want?” Thomas asked lowly, continuing to nuzzle at Jimmy’s neck. He kissed a spot behind his ear, drawing another low groan from him and making him bare his neck even more. Jimmy’s skin was warm and smooth, as if it were made of golden velvet, but the muscles and tendons were tensed in expectation.

“ _Ahh_ -” Jimmy hissed as Thomas’s s hands ran down his chest, searching for a way under his shirt.

“Is this what you want?” Thomas asked again, and though it was said with a sense of deliberation, his voice carried a hint of cautiousness; he _was_ genuinely asking for consent, though he was so aroused he feared he might not be able to stop.

Jimmy felt the same desire. He was afraid he was going to burst into flames under the heat of Thomas’s lips on his neck. Their bodies were flush together and Thomas’s hands now traced the line of Jimmy’s spine, drawing him even closer.

Jimmy finally managed to move his arms; he placed a hand along Thomas’s jaw line, guiding him up so that their eyes could meet. Thomas was confused for a moment and he repeated his question.

“Jimmy, do you want-”

“Yes,” Jimmy breathed desperately, pressing his lips against Thomas’s again, craving to taste more, to take more, unable to refrain now that his shackles were broken.

He had never felt a pull so strong, a desire so reckless and wild. He let Thomas undo his shirt, and he proceeded to undo his in turn. Had he known what the sight of a man’s bare torso would do to him – or maybe it was just Thomas? Maybe it was _because_ it was Thomas.

They twisted their hips against each other again, desperate for friction. Their bodies merged together, skin kissing skin, and entwined in a cluster of limbs they stumbled back to one of the beds.

“Can I touch you?” Thomas mumbled against Jimmy’s golden chest crawling on top of him, hands tracing down Jimmy’s sides until they stilled over the clasp on his belt.

“Mhm,” Jimmy mumbled and dug his nails into the muscles of Thomas’s back. From the waist down he was frozen by the brushes of Thomas’s fingers when they tackled the clasp and tugged down his trousers and underwear.

Thomas left kisses down Jimmy’s chest and stomach. Jimmy observed him in awe, and then Thomas looked up to meet his eyes as he touched his half-hard erection.

Along with the touch, the eye contact was too much for Jimmy; he closed his eyes and let his head sink into the pillows. His hips reflexively arched into Thomas’s palm.

_That’s- oh- god, what you do to me- damn you, Thom-ahh-_

“ _Jimmy,_ ” Thomas groaned, his own erection throbbing at the sound of Jimmy’s panting breaths, at the sight of his parted lips, his face contorted in pleasure. He stroked him down his length, increasing the speed of his hand and finding the right tempo.

Jimmy’s mind was hazy with lust, but he still very clearly felt Thomas’s own hard-on pressing against his thigh. Nothing had ever felt like this. No lips of a woman, no touch, nobody’s voice alone had been able to make him lose the ground beneath his feet when he wasn’t even standing. Looking down for a moment and seeing Thomas do _that_ to him was intoxicating.

“Th- Thomas, _please_ -” Jimmy moaned weakly, digging his fingers deeper into Thomas’s arms.

His erection was throbbing and he was getting lost in the sensations, painfully aroused.

“Thomas, I- I’m going to-”

Their eyes met and Thomas looked at Jimmy as if he were a treasure made of pure gold, something to be cherished and admired. “Yes, love. Do it, it’s alright, I want you- want you to,” he mumbled and increased the speed of his hand.

Jimmy muffled his own moan by pulling Thomas down into a kiss. Without thinking, he mirrored what Thomas was doing – he reached into Thomas’s trousers for his erection and wrapped his palm around it.

“ _Ahh,_ ” Thomas hissed sharply. “Hnn, _Jimmy_ -”

His voice filled Jimmy with confidence. He somehow managed to work Thomas’s trousers down, and even though he didn’t know what he was doing he proceeded to stroke him as he would himself.

Thomas’s open mouth and rapid breaths made Jimmy’s skin tingle with the need to elicit more from him. _He_ was doing that to Thomas – _he_ was making him come undone, that man who never lost control – it boost Jimmy’s ego and simultaneously made him vulnerable and at the mercy of the other man, just as Thomas was at his. A low groan escaped Thomas’s throat and the primal melody set the desire in Jimmy’s insides ablaze.

Waves of pleasure pulsed through his body in strong thrusts as he reached his climax. He felt body-less – yet more alive and real than ever. All he could feel was Thomas’s frame, so pleasantly set against his own; and Thomas’s hand, moving slower, guiding Jimmy through the moment. The waves gradually receded, leaving Jimmy’s panting breaths and wild heartbeats to echo in his ears.

Then his senses returned and he felt Thomas lower himself over him.

“Jimmy, ah-”

He found that his own hand was still wrapped around Thomas’s member, but caught in his own orgasm he’d lost the rhythm.

Thomas whispered again pleadingly. “Jimmy-”

Jimmy picked up the pace and kissed Thomas fervently. “I’ve got you,” he whispered in his ear, pushing back his tousled hair and kissing the side of his neck. Only seconds later he felt Thomas’s body give in, accompanied by a low groan following Jimmy in surrendering to the arousal.

Thomas’s initial worry after his mind had cleared was that Jimmy would be disgusted, terrified, frightened of what they had done when the desire would have worn out.

But he wasn’t. Jimmy felt reborn and free. It was right. Everything felt right. There was nothing foul about it. It was just as it was supposed to be.

They lay in silence for long moments after, enveloped in each other’s arms, sweaty and spent, savouring one another’s heat, hearing nothing but two heartbeats, mingling into one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the posting schedule by now - next chapter will be up on Saturday. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one where our trio kind of hangs out and bonds. Sexy time in the next chapter, coming next Saturday ;)

They fell asleep together yesterday; simply as they were, with the curtains rather recklessly drawn back, letting in the moonlight though the large window, and with soft white blankets covering parts of their bodies to keep them warm, while one another’s arms provided yet more soothing comfort.

It was as if everything and nothing changed between them – but it hadn’t, not truly. For all the awkwardness they were both anticipating, there was none of it. Perhaps it was because they had nothing more to hide from each other now. They became lovers for the night, but they were friends all the same. That last veil between them had been lifted. That veil of irony and perhaps foolishness; the one that sometimes made them feel uncomfortable because Thomas thought that he loved Jimmy in a way which could never be reciprocated, and because Jimmy wanted to reciprocate that love more than he knew, but he could never find the strength to do it.

But he had now, and he realized that he didn’t in fact need strength because there was nothing to overcome; only to embrace and to give in. What they gave to each other yesterday was more than just the satisfaction of that primal urge for bond and carnal pleasures – they gave each other freedom.

In another time perhaps they would be more uncomfortable after their last night’s encounter. In this time they were quite the opposite; the following day they were much more comfortable around each other than ever before.

They could be sitting beside one another, as they were now, and searching for answers in the books which Elle had brought to the hotel room, and they both felt perfectly content. Every now and again, Jimmy would glance up from the pages of whichever book he had in hand at the moment, and he would catch Thomas already looking at him. It made him smile – not only because he liked it, but because he _could_ like it now. He was allowed to savour these emotions and it was most liberating. Thomas looked at him like no one ever had; with nothing but love, and in that remarkable way that unequivocally let Jimmy know that he cherished him, his every virtue and every flaw.

Years ago, when they first met, Jimmy thought it was simply kindness that made Thomas behave in that way. But after that touch on the shoulder by the clock, and that evening by the piano, and when Lady Sybil had her baby – because Jimmy _did_ remember all those moments, and he remembered them in a bittersweet way where he didn’t dare indulge in them for fear he might grow too fond of them – after all those moments, and especially after _that_ night, he finally allowed himself to believe that it was in fact more than kindness. And he was glad of it, but also terrified. And he gradually came to see that _he_ felt more than friendship for Thomas as well, and there was nothing sinful about it as the world had him believe – how _could_ it be, when it was the most he ever felt for another person who wasn’t family.

They were both leafing through a big pile of books – quite interesting ones too – some had illustrations and others photographs, not black and white, but in colour! They sat next to each other on one bed (the one where they’d _been_ together last night) and on the other one sat Eleanor, with her top-thingy in her lap, pressing the keys on the keyboard rapidly, then pausing to read, and then repeating the process.

However, looking up time travel wasn’t the only thing Eleanor was doing. _Who are you, truly?_ she kept thinking, glancing over at Jimmy every couple of moments. _Do you have a twin brother? Ah- with the same name, sure, yeah, that’s what it is… Ugh, just ask him!_ she tried to convince herself while scrolling down a page absentmindedly on her computer. _And what the heck was that with the google search? If you two were kissing on the balcony the other night, surely you don’t need an explanation. You’re_ _from the 1920s, it’s not like you’d fool around for no reason!_ _Or… or is this something else?_ Shivers ran down her spine. _What if we did something here? What if history wasn’t meant to go like this? If he had a child with that woman- did that already happen in their time? If he’s into guys, it’s unlikely that he’ll have children in the future…_ _What if them coming here messed up history somehow? These things happen in movies, don’t they?_

Jimmy turned his head up, noticing that Eleanor had been absentmindedly staring at him. He gave her a smile. “Found anything?”

“Uh, no…” She shook her head. “Nothing.” _How long have they been together? Well, you can’t ask them that! Hmm, not that, but…_ “Hey, Jimmy? Thomas,” she called and slowly closed her laptop, focusing her attention on them. “So, uh… tell me something about your time,” she asked casually. “Your lives. What’s it like in the twenties?”

“Is that going to help us get back?” wondered Thomas and put his book on the coffee table.

“No, I was only wondering,” Eleanor said. “You know – making conversation.”

The two men exchanged looks. “Well, you already know that we work at Downton in north Yorkshire,” said Jimmy with a shrug. “I’m a footman – _first_ footman –” he stressed, “and he’s an under-butler-”

“Ok,” Eleanor cut in. “But I didn’t mean the formalities. I’m interested in _you_. What are your private lives like?”

A suspicious look was Thomas’s answer. “Private?”

“All I mean is what do you like to do-” She raised her eyebrow in a tease. “Besides smoking, in your case. Do you have any siblings, family…?”

“People at Downton are my family,” Jimmy said and glanced at Thomas discretely. “Mum and dad are gone, and I’ve no brothers and sisters.”

Eleanor suddenly felt bad for Jimmy, but she needed to know more. “Oh… well do you, erm… by the way, do you happen to know Anna-” _Oh god, what was great-great grandma’s maiden name?_ “Anna… well, any Anna, for starters?” _God, Elle, do you even know how to talk to people?!_

“That’s a bit random,” Jimmy shrugged. “I know Anna Bates. She works at Downton too.”

At these words, Eleanor was all ears. “Oh really? What’s she like?” _Was it Bates? I don’t think so, but it might have been…_

“She’s nice, kind.” Jimmy said with another shrug. “Not sure what she sees in Bates, but they seem to be doing well enough.”

“Bates?”

“Her husband,” Thomas clarified.

Just like that, Eleanor’s hopes of this being the right Anna turned to dust. She addressed Jimmy again. “Ok, well, how about you? Are you married? Any children?”

Jimmy smiled. “No, don’t think it’s for me.”

“Why’s that?” Eleanor insisted.

The young man seemed a bit reluctant to answer.

“Not common for people in service,” Thomas jumped in. “Not if you aspire to be a butler or a valet, at least. Our work keeps us pretty busy. Some have families, but many don’t get married,” he explained.

“So _you’re_ not married either?”

“I’m married to my job,” he shrugged with a characteristic secretive smirk. “Don’t think I’ll every fancy a girl enough to want to marry her.”

 _Huh, smooth,_ thought Eleanor who was of course privy to his personal detail which he believed was a secret. She decided not to pry any further. _But if Jimmy’s not married, if he has no children… he could be bi, of course, but he’d have to have had a son already, in 1921, for him to be eighteen in 1939-_

“He plays the piano,” Thomas suddenly said. “To answer your question of what we like to do. Jimmy plays the piano.” He turned towards the blonde man with a gentle expression. “Beautifully too. You should hear him.”

He observed Jimmy with sincere admiration, giving him a little smile.

Eleanor picked up on their exchange of looks. _Hmm, yep, there’s definitely more to that friendly look. How on earth do you manage to hide it back in the twenties?_ “Well, I have a piano – keyboards, actually,” she said. “In my apartment. I could bring them here if you want to play?”

“Oh, no need to bother,” smiled Jimmy modestly, though he _had_ been curious to hear the sound of that device since he first saw it.

“No, it’s no problem, I’ll go fetch ‘em. I’d love to hear you. You’d better live up to that praise,” she said with a smirk.

She returned with that plastic keyboard part of the piano that Jimmy had previously seen in her apartment.

“What should I play?” he asked.

Eleanor shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

He thought for a moment, gently sliding his fingers over the keys, getting acquainted with the instrument. Then he started playing a tune, and Thomas quickly recognized it. At Downton Jimmy didn’t have a large repertoire of songs, but among those few that Thomas had heard him play, this one was his favourite. He wondered if Jimmy knew that, but immediately thought himself daft for thinking that he would have chosen it based on that logic.

Eleanor listened with enjoyment. When Jimmy finished his piece, she and Thomas gave him a little clap, “Wow, that _was_ lovely!” Eleanor complimented him. As they were clapping she noticed the half-glove on Thomas’s hand which she’d already been meaning to ask about.

“Hm, Thomas? If you don’t mind me asking – what happened to your hand?”

Thomas turned to her, then looked at his gloved hand. “War,” he said simply, with almost no inflection.

 _Oh…_ It suddenly dawned on Eleanor how real the Great War must have been for them. It wasn’t just some ‘thing’ they read about in the book, memorizing dates and battles and people in history class. They lived it – and survived it. “Has it not healed?” she asked quietly.

Thomas lifted it up, inspecting it. “It has, mostly. It’s just the look of it.”

The glove covering the scar was a real, physical bond between the past and the present; something which now that it was labelled served as an acute reminder of a world utterly unimaginable to Eleanor. There were words, photos, imagination – but nothing could recreate the experience. For all her curiosity, she was glad of that. _But they don’t know… another one followed – is yet to come in their time…_

She didn’t want to dwell on this topic. She turned to Jimmy again. “So, piano virtuoso, where did you learn to play?”

“Me granddad James taught me,” Jimmy replied with a satisfied smile.

“Is that who you were named after?” _This reminds me, must remember to dig up a picture of great-granddad, see if you two are anything alike._

Jimmy shrugged. “Never thought about it. Maybe, yeah.”

“Nonsense,” Thomas cut in with a mischievous smirk. “He was clearly named after the king.”

“Oh sure,” Jimmy chortled.

Eleanor smiled. “Which one?”

“The vain one,” Thomas said, a grin stretching across his face.

Jimmy crossed his arms in front of his chest in mock offence. “At least my name’s regal. What’s ‘Thomas’ anyway?”

“Every king’s noble, trusted advisor,” the other man said. “Or at least Henry VIII’s. He was fond of Thomases, I recall.”

“Until they fell out of his favour. Cromwell, More, Cranmer, Seymour... all lined up in front of the chopping block,” Eleanor noted and they all smiled.

“What about you?” added Jimmy, turning to the young woman. “There was a queen Eleanor, wasn’t there?”

“A few, I think. But I doubt my parents had that in mind when they named me.”

“Wait- who’s the king now?” suddenly asked Thomas.

“We have a queen,” Eleanor replied. “Elizabeth II. You’ll have known George V. She’s his granddaughter.”

“What a time,” Jimmy exclaimed. “To know the future-”

“To _be_ part of the future,” added Thomas.

 _Indeed,_ Eleanor agreed, musing about the two men before her. _You’re quite a pair, aren’t you?_ She was growing rather fond of them.


	13. Chapter 13

Thomas, Jimmy and Eleanor spent the rest of the day with some downs and later also very definitive ups.

Their research wasn’t leading anywhere, and all that Mrs Clegg told them which could sort of be useful was ‘same time, same place.’ In the afternoon all three went to the station where Eleanor had found Thomas and Jimmy (or rather where they had found her). They went to the same platform and waited for the five o’clock train – the same one as the one with which they arrived, but the difference was of course very evident.

They weren’t sure what to do or expect. They just sort of went there and… waited. Watched. Observed. Hoped, that perhaps something just as bizarre and unusual would happen as it had before, almost a week ago when they found themselves in this world, with no explanation as to how they got here.

“Is it starting to look like, um… a train from your time?” Eleanor asked them as all three observed the five o’clock.

It wasn’t. They looked and looked, hoping that it would somehow turn into a ‘normal’ train at some point, just as suddenly as it had turned from ‘their’ train into a modern one when they arrived.

Perhaps the time was the problem… Did the _hour_ have to be the same, or did it mean that they would have to wait for the exact same _day_ , so a full year, and then only have one chance to go back?

With Eleanor by their side they even briefly tried stepping into the train before it departed to see of anything would happen, but it was still of no use, so they quickly got off. They didn’t dare risk letting the train take them anywhere – even if it was going to Yorkshire, what were the chances that it would be _their_ Yorkshire once they got there? Maybe they would try this if everything else failed…

“She said we’ll ‘know,’” Jimmy thought aloud when they returned to the hotel. “The old lady,” he clarified. “I know what she said was crazy, but maybe it really doesn’t work because we haven’t yet uh… learned ‘the lesson’.”

Thomas sighed but his expression showed that he was thinking just as hard about the situation. “Even if she were onto something,” he spoke slowly, looking from Jimmy to Eleanor. “What lesson could that be? What can this world teach us that ours can’t? That we wear those uptight liveries just to make ourselves more uncomfortable, when we could simply strut around in these?” he suggested, half in a joke, tugging at his ‘contemporary’ shirt.

Eleanor smiled but shrugged. “Well, if you’re going to think about your ‘lesson’ anymore today, you’ll have to do it on your own.” She looked at her phone to check the time. “I have to get changed. I’m going to the movies with Peter.”

“With the receptionist?” Jimmy asked with interest. “Not to be too forward, but I didn’t know he fancied you like that.”

Eleanor furrowed her brow in confusion. “What d’you mean?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Well, going to the pictures is pretty romantic.”

“It is, rather,” Thomas agreed. “At least in our time.” 

The young woman blushed. “Well, I wouldn’t call it a date or anything. There will be others too, Peter said. Probably.”

“Like chaperones?”

“No, friends,” Eleanor insisted with a laugh. “Look, I have to get ready or I’ll be late. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”

She left and the pair were now alone in their room. Jimmy looked out the window into the dusky sky, strewn with the tops of skyscrapers and other tall buildings. He took his jacket off.

“D’you think I could wear this at Downton? On my days off, that is?” he wondered about the black faux leather jacket which was one of his yesterday’s purchases.

Thomas walked over. “Not sure about the jacket,” he said, eyeing Jimmy up and down with a mysterious look in his eyes. “But this white shirt looks really good on you.” He reached out to stroke Jimmy’s arms, confident enough after their last encounter that he expected his advances not to be rejected. He just wanted to touch him, for a second at least. “Makes you look… angelic.”

Jimmy smiled, feeling a desire rising in his stomach at those words. _I better not tell you how sinful these jeans make you look then. I could get used to you in these clothes,_ he thought, but he would probably have to have had a drink or two to be bold enough to say it aloud. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Thomas’s lower back, drawing them together.

Perhaps it was a moment, perhaps seconds stretched into minutes; but they stayed like this, in silence and each lost in the other one’s eyes. They were almost too comfortable, too lazy to move, to speak, to do anything – yet there was something electric between them, a growing anticipation.

“I want to kiss you again,” Jimmy finally spoke in a low tone; their noses were almost touching. He didn’t wait for an answer, and Thomas didn’t seem to mind.

He took Jimmy’s bottom lip between his own and then ran his tongue over it. The blonde man parted his lips yearningly, letting him in. An overwhelming sense of freedom pulsed through his veins whenever he was with Thomas. He was afraid of it before, but now he was filled with some strange sense of courage – he felt like he would even dare to do this secretively with Thomas back home; he couldn’t imagine _not_ being able to ever again steal a moment to be with him. But it was much better here; they were high above the skyline and they had the whole city at their feet. They were free.

Thomas’s hands came up to cup Jimmy’s face, and Jimmy held onto his shoulders for balance because his knees felt weak and his body trembled with desire.

One of Thomas’s hands slid down to the small of Jimmy’s back and pulled him closer, chest to chest, their erections trapped together between them, even though the fabric of their trousers obstructed the skin-on-skin contact.

“Hmm, Jimmy-” Thomas moaned and ground his hips against Jimmy’s thigh. “God, I want you so-”

Jimmy pressed back. “Yes,” he whispered in a raspy, lust-filled voice.

Thomas ran his warm hands up and down Jimmy’s chest while kissing him, tracing the outlines of Jimmy’s nipples with his thumb over the fabric.

A sharp hiss came from Jimmy’s throat. “ _Ah_ \- Th-Thomas, let’s- _hnn_ \- let’s lie down.”

Thomas nodded. They moved over to the bed – perhaps it was the other one this time, neither of them noticed or cared – and as Jimmy’s back hit the mattress Thomas crawled on top of him.

“Should’ve let them leave it as one bed,” Jimmy mumbled into the kiss and he felt the corners of Thomas’s lips stretch into a grin.

His hands travelled down to free Jimmy from his trousers, fumbling with the clasp on his jeans. He finally managed to undo it, distracted by Jimmy’s kisses, but when he pulled them down and reached for the waistband of his underwear he looked down suddenly stopped.

His brow furrowed in confusion, but lips stretched into a smile. A bright red band of Jimmy’s briefs could be seen.

Jimmy realized what had caught Thomas’s attention and stared blushing rapidly. “I- I liked them. I wanted to try them-” he said as confidently as he could, though he felt silly. He avoided Thomas’s eyes. “They’re actually quite comfortable, y’know,” he concluded, almost defensively forcing confidence into his voice.

Thomas’s face beamed up, not in a mock but in endearment. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Jimmy’s, kissing him ardently. “Is that what you went back for last minute?” he asked with a smirk and ground his hips down again. “Because I think you made the right choice.”

The sensation of their erections brushing against each other made Jimmy let out a sharp hiss, but his lips stretched into a relieved smile. He wrapped his hands around Thomas’s neck, drawing him close and into another kiss.

Thomas finally pulled Jimmy’s red briefs down, and Jimmy helped him remove his own underwear. _God, I never knew how much I wanted you,_ he thought as he watched Thomas’s half-hard erection, remembering last night with an acutely arousing sense of déjà vu.

But Thomas seemed to be purposefully ignoring Jimmy’s member for now; he moved lower to press a trail of kisses, starting at Jimmy’s knee, then moving up the inside of his thigh.

Jimmy’s skin tingled pleasantly and he breathed a laugh. “Wh-what’re you doing?”

“Kissing you,” smirked Thomas, his breath warm against Jimmy’s skin, kisses slowly advancing upwards.

Jimmy felt his heart beating faster and his throat was dry. He swallowed. “I’m not some romantic maid, y’know,” he smiled, masking his nervousness.

“You don’t like it?” asked Thomas in almost a mock tone. There was a sultry look in his eyes.

Jimmy let his eyes fall closed. “Hnn, I didn’t say that.” He focused on the feeling of Thomas’s warm lips against his skin – not that he had a choice, he couldn’t feel anything else.

_That’s- hmm- oh- OH, GOD!_

Jimmy’s eyes flew open in shock. Thomas’s lips were wrapped around his hard-on, and Jimmy’s mouth gaped breathlessly at the sight and the sensation. He had to remind himself to breathe. He felt as if he’d been enveloped into a whole new wave of pleasure.

“Oh god, _Thomas,_ ” he whispered, struggling to speak. It was obscene and wanton and yet- it felt amazing. “That’s- _oh_ – yes, please-”

His mind wandered off, unable to focus on anything. He couldn’t think – all he could do was visualize what he was feeling; Thomas’s tongue and lips on him, his warm mouth taking him in, sending waves of euphoria up from his hard-on, setting every inch of his body on fire.

He reached down, tangling his fingers through Thomas’s hair, tugging lightly. He wanted him up above him to kiss him, but he also knew that he would die if Thomas stopped now- now when Jimmy was already so close-

“Yes- ah, like that-” he moaned. He felt every movement of Thomas’s tongue, his lips taking him in from tip to base and down again. “Shite, Thomas, I-I’m going to-”

Thomas nodded and then switched to his hand, stroking up and down Jimmy’s length.

“Yes, love, I want you to,” he whispered, his lips full and red, a lock of hair falling over his eyes.

Jimmy was entranced by him and lost under his touch. He came, reaching an achingly pleasurable orgasm.

As wonderful as this experience was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it to Thomas – not yet. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to make him feel good, but taking him in the mouth like that… he’d have to prepare himself for it. Instead, he pulled Thomas closer so that they were lying side by side, and he repeated what he’d done yesterday; he wrapped his hand around Thomas’s hard-on, enjoying the sounds Thomas made and the expressions on his face; those parted red lips, worth every sin; his alabaster skin shining with small droplets of sweat on the brow, dishevelled hair falling over Thomas’s eyes, giving him a rugged look which Jimmy found he liked more than Thomas’s usual look, with hair set in place by a gallon of pomade.

“ _Jimmy-_ ” Thomas whispered against the other man’s neck as he came, panting and arching his hips into Jimmy’s hand. All Jimmy could feel were the love and devotion for the man in his arms.

They fell asleep together, Jimmy’s hand on Thomas’s chest. He could feel Thomas’s heartbeat under his fingertips and it assured him that it was all real. He didn’t want it to be a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, next Saturday - hopefully (Monday at latest, but I think I'll be able to post on time) :)


	14. Chapter 14

“We’ll never have this much freedom,” Jimmy said quietly and moved back a little, pressing his back more firmly against Thomas’s chest.

Thomas wrapped his arm tighter around him. He felt it was a bit soppy – the two of them lying in each other’s arms like some married couple. He was reluctant to like it because he knew it couldn’t last, especially once they return to Downton. But he did like it like this, very much; so did Jimmy.

“I won’t be able to touch you like that,” said Jimmy and laced his fingers with Thomas’s. “And I won’t be able to do this.” He brought Thomas’s hand forward and up to his lips. It was the wounded one; without the glove, bare and vulnerable, just as it was yesterday when it caressed every inch of Jimmy’s body. Jimmy kissed the hand slowly – the unmarred part, the scar, the palm, and the back of it. He tried to show Thomas that he wasn’t afraid, to show him that he wasn’t messing him about, that he truly cared and meant everything they had done and were doing.

Thomas felt as if he’d fallen through the looking glass and into a parallel universe. Were they actually here, in this strangely similar, yet completely different world? Or were they dreaming – was _he_ dreaming? Had he fallen somewhere and hurt his head? Is he actually lying in his small, narrow cot in Downton’s attic, alone, maybe occasionally tended to by someone compassionate like Mrs Hughes or Anna, and is everyone waiting for him to wake up and stop dreaming about Jimmy loving him?

But how could he be dreaming? He was lying here, in this huge soft bed, not alone but with a man in his arms– with _Jimmy_ in his arms. He was real; Thomas could feel the warmth of his body, the softness of his skin and the firm muscles underneath, his breathing, his heartbeat – how could that be a dream?

He leaned in and kissed Jimmy softly on the back of his neck. “But you can kiss me now. And I can kiss you. We’re alright here…” The words made him emotional before he spoke them. “We’re… free here.”

He felt Jimmy nod. “ _Here,_ ” he repeated emphatically.

Their situation was bittersweet. Perhaps it wasn’t a dream, but somewhere in Thomas’s heart rested a fear that just like a dream Jimmy’s affection would only last while they were in this world, this time. _It’ll be too dangerous back home, too bothersome for him. He won’t want to hide it – and he shouldn’t have to – so maybe he’ll decide it’s not worth the trouble…_

“Why now?” Thomas whispered quietly. “Why did you wait until now?”

He felt Jimmy’ fingers stop travelling up and down his palm. “It felt right,” he simply said. “It felt… safe.”

Thomas nodded and nuzzled closer to Jimmy’s neck, “I’m glad. Even if-” He felt a lump in his throat. “Even if back at Downton you won’t want-”

Jimmy turned around and propped himself up on his elbow to face the other man. “Thomas, what d’you mean?” he asked confused. “Don’t say that-”

“I’ll understand if you only want this here, where we can… be together freely.”

“That’s not what I want,” said Jimmy and put his palm against Thomas’s jawline, caressing it gently. A few days ago this would seem lewd, but now it seemed the most natural, spontaneous thing. “You think I’d give it all up because we’ll have to hide it? Then you don’t know me, Thomas Barrow. Hiding around in some closet or in the boot-room – sounds pretty exciting to me,” he said, bringing out a sad smile from the other man.

But Jimmy wasn’t as sure as he tried to make Thomas believe. He was determined – he wasn’t going to lose Thomas simply because the conditions would be different in their time – yet, he knew quite well that their world wasn’t without danger for men like them. It was hard to imagine how they would manage at Downton now – if the Crawleys even wanted to take them back after days of inexplicable absence. Maybe they were better off on their own. Maybe they weren’t in a hurry; perhaps they could take it slow with trying to figure out how to return to 1922…

But this wasn’t the time to think about that.

Jimmy leaned over the edge of the bed to browse through Thomas’s clothes which were resting on the floor. Out of a pocket he fished cigarettes and a lighter.

“Excuse you?” Thomas said in mock annoyance, but he was smiling. “I’m almost out.”

Jimmy shrugged and lit a cigarette, putting it between his lips and taking a drag. “I didn’t bwing mine,” he mumbled. “You’ll buy mowe.”

Thomas leaned on his elbow and snatched the cigarette from Jimmy’s mouth. He took a drag, exhaling a cloud of grey smoke. “Doubt the modern ones are as good as these,” he said with a head tilt, and then he returned the cigarette to Jimmy and kissed him on the shoulder.

They lazed in bed until late morning. Eventually, they got hungry and they needed to go down for breakfast. While Thomas was in the bathroom, Jimmy was changing his clothes – or rather putting some on. Yesterday, in their passion-filled waltz to the bed, his shirt had landed on the pile of books from the library and from the antique shop that were strewn around on the coffee table. Jimmy stacked them up a bit to make it tidier, but one small leather book in the pile caught his eye. There was a bookmark between two pages. He picked the book up and carefully inspected it.

When Thomas emerged from the bathroom he found Jimmy sat in an armchair by the coffee table, that small book lying open in his hands. Jimmy’s face was ashen.

“Jimmy?” he hurried over to him and knelt beside him, reaching for his hand. “What’s wrong?”

Jimmy didn’t answer for a while, until he finally managed to utter: “We-we should get Eleanor.”

Thomas went to get her. When she arrived, she was instantly horrified to see what Jimmy was holding in his hand. Both men looked at her, eagerly awaiting an explanation.

 _Oh, shit… Nice going, Elle, leaving it here, out in the open! Why not just tell them that you saw them kissing the other night while you’re at it!_ She cleared her throat and spoke. “So erm… what’s this then?”

“We know you’ve seen it before,” Thomas said, pointing to her bookmarker. “Where did you get it?”

Eleanor sighed and sank into the armchair next to Jimmy. “It was my great-grandpa’s,” she said. “Edward Carter.”

“ _Carter_ , yes,” Jimmy repeated. “So why does it say: ‘Fred Carter was not my real father, but rather some man called James Kent from Yorkshire,’” he read in a semi scornful tone, as if both shocked by and terrified of the words.

“I don’t know, you read the rest, that’s what his mother told him, didn’t she!” Eleanor said defensively. She knew only as much as the two of them. “Maybe it was all a lie. I’ve been trying to ask you about it, but it isn’t exactly a conversation starter, is it?”

“Well, I don’t have children so I can’t see how that can be true,” Jimmy protested with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Alright,” said Eleanor, trying to calm him down. “No one’s pointing any fingers.”

“You told me that’s Anstruther’s house,” said Thomas about the building behind the people in the photograph.

The blonde man nodded.

“So that really _is_ you in the picture?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Me and the rest of the servants there. I remember it being taken, the date’s right too… right before the old bat left for France. Before I came to Downton,” he said, but there was an indefinable fear in his eyes. “Doesn’t confirm anything, though. Whoever this Edward-person’s mother was, she could’ve gotten the photo from anywhere.”

“It’s not ‘whoever,’” Eleanor chimed in and extended her hand to point to a tall, black-haired maid. “She’s in the photo too, that’s how she got it. Anna…um…” She still couldn’t remember the surname.

“Benson,” Jimmy breathed with eyes wide, staring at the picture. “She- _she’s_ his… mother?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s it – Benson!” Eleanor nodded, but Thomas shook his head in confusion.

“I don’t understand…” He turned to the young woman. “Jimmy doesn’t have children, and this was all _before_ he came to Downton. Makes no sense. When was your great-grandfather born?”

Eleanor shrugged. “Not sure… Early twenties. He fought in the Second-” _Hush! They don’t need to know about another war, they’ve lived through one already! No more sad news!_ “Erm… he was in this… battle. He had to have been at least 18, which means he was born in 1921 or earlier if he was conscripted right in the beginning.”

“Earlier…” Thomas repeated pensively, turning now to Jimmy. “So how would he be Jimmy’s son, then? Besides, you hadn’t been with this Anna, have you?

Jimmy remained silent. He looked like a frozen statue, his jaw set, staring at the photo silently. “No… It can’t- can’t have been Anna…” He seemed to have shrunk into himself somehow, his cheeks devoid of colour. “She- she can’t have- she got rid of it,” he mumbled quietly, but his voice was unsteady, saturated with a gradually rising panic.

Thomas and Eleanor exchanged baffled looks.

“Got rid of _what_?” the taller man demanded slowly.

Jimmy looked away and sighed. His face felt hot. “We _were_ together. Only once or twice, but she… she told me she was with child and was getting rid of it…”

“She was pregnant?” Eleanor gawked. “With _your_ child?”

“How do you know it was yours?!” Thomas wondered, his eyes so wide they looked like they could jump out of their sockets. “Like Eleanor said, this Anna could have made it up. Told her son the name of a random bloke she’d fancied-”

Jimmy’s brow furrowed, a realization dawning on him. “But why would she lie to me if she was getting rid of it? Why would she tell me in the first place if she had no intention of keeping it? It wasn’t like she was trying to plant it on me, use me to take care of it,” he pondered. “She wasn’t seeing anyone, and it was a small household. I was the only one roughly her age there. The other two were old codgers, the chauffeur Bill and Travis the butler, they were both married and could barely walk, let alone-” He bit his tongue and moved on. “And erm… Anstruther fired her when she found out – that she was with child, not that _we_ were... y’know…”

“And you don’t know what happened to her or the child?” Eleanor wondered.

Jimmy shook his head, regret reflecting in his face. “She was dismissed a few months before I left. She had some family in York. I just assumed she went to live there and had the… procedure done.” His voice was small and he sounded as if he were in a shock – this discovery was as much a surprise to him as it was to everyone else in the room. “But I was _certain_ she didn’t keep it. She said she wouldn’t…”

“Well, the situation had changed for her,” mused Thomas, his face nearly as shocked as Jimmy’s. “She was still unmarried, but she wasn’t working… if she was with her family, maybe she decided she could manage with a baby after all.”

“Or perhaps,” suggested Eleanor, “she simply couldn’t get through with it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter next Saturday :) I hope you're all doing well, stay safe, everyone!


	15. Chapter 15

They were sitting with Eleanor upstairs in her apartment. She had unearthed an old leather-bound photo album and they were flicking through it.

“There he is,” she said, pointing to the young boy in the picture. “That’s Edward.” It was a close-up of him, he was grinning, his smile bearing a striking resemblance to Jimmy’s, but his hair was perhaps a shade darker and certainly more dishevelled. He was probably around twelve or thirteen, a mischievous-looking child.

Jimmy ran his fingers over the photo, appearing both amazed and perhaps a little bit frightened. “That’s him?” he asked. A whirlwind of disorderly thoughts raced through his mind, but there was nothing he could quite grasp because every thought was rapidly replaced by the other – he had so many questions, but he decided to start with: “What was he like?”

Eleanor gave him a rather sad shrug. “I don’t know much about him, unfortunately. He died long before I was born. Grandpa always said he had a talent for music.”

Jimmy smiled to himself, feeling a hint of pride at that. But then he remembered that he had little to be proud of – he had done as much for that lad in the photo as that sergeant who’d gotten one of the maids at Downton pregnant – Thomas had told Jimmy about it once; apparently few people knew, but it was a scandalous story. Jimmy looked at the photograph again. _Are you really my son?_

“You said,” he began, “that Anna married this Carter-fellow?”

Eleanor nodded. “Yes, Fred Carter his name was. He adopted Edward, treated him well for all I know. He didn’t have anything against it as far as I can tell from Edward’s diary.”

“And they didn’t have any children of their own? Anna and Fred?” wondered Thomas.

Eleanor shook her head. “None. All I know is that Fred died before Anna. By twenty-eight Edward had lost both his parents-” she paused. “Well, both his mother and the man who raised him… He wasn’t born into wealth, of course, but he was ambitious and hard-working. He was actually the one who built this hotel.”

Thomas and Jimmy looked around, suddenly very attentively considering their surroundings.

“My son built _this_?” gawked Jimmy.

“Well, not with his bare hands, but yes,” said Eleanor. “It was his big achievement. It didn’t look like it does today, of course. His son Robert, and then my father after him both made sure to keep up with the trends, keep the hotel looking modern. It didn’t start off completely in glass,” she said, flipping forward in the photo album until she found what she was looking for; it was a picture – this time in colour – of a much older man, wearing a fancy-looking grey suit. He had more wrinkles and his hair was thinner, but his smile gave him away. He was posing in front of a building, and the sign above the entrance read: ‘The Intercontinental.’

Jimmy inspected the photo, letting his eyes linger on it for a while. Then carefully returned it to Eleanor, slouched down and buried his head in his palms. He was overwhelmed. It was so much to process. All these new discoveries, seemingly never-ending! Was it truth or fiction? Everything he had seen and witnessed did a solid job of convincing him that it was the former – yet every time he tried to imagine it, it felt insane.

There was something about the picture, a strange resemblance – did he see it only because he was so firmly convinced that this was his son? Not only was Anna’s baby alive, but he was all grown up, older than Jimmy in the previous photo, which was absolutely bizarre – and in fact, he wasn’t alive anymore in this time! Jimmy had somehow managed to miss his son’s entire lifetime without even knowing him.

His face was still buried in his palms, but he opened his eyes as he felt Thomas’s hand on his shoulder, fingers slowly massaging his tense muscles. “Jimmy?” Thomas asked quietly with such tenderness and unobtrusiveness that Jimmy returned to the real world. “Are you alright?”

The head of blonde hair nodded. “I’m fine,” he said without lifting his gaze, voice muffled against his palms. “I am, really. It’s just… so much.”

The awkwardness transferred to Eleanor. She had no proper connection with Jimmy, so she couldn’t comfort him like Thomas. It was surreal; trying to wrap her mind around the idea that sitting before her was her great-great grandfather. For some reason he became so foreign to her now; so young and confused and distant. Then her eyes scanned Thomas’s hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and she remembered them kissing on the balcony. She wondered if Jimmy knew what bisexual meant – she suspected that this _was_ what he was, but it didn’t really matter. She wondered if the two of them were truly in love. Were relationships between two men or two women in the past perhaps stronger because they needed to be in order to endure the pressures of the world? Because there was more at stake? Whatever the case, one she knew thing: the mystery was solved and the pieces, although very roughly, fell into place.

Jimmy lifted his head up and attempted to discretely let go of Thomas’s hand, which Eleanor only now noticed he had held at some point. “Would it be…” he slowly began, “would it be possible for you to spare that earlier photo?”

It took a moment for Eleanor to realize what he was asking, and then her lips stretched into a kind smile. “Of Edward as a boy? Of course. You should certainly have one, I think,” she said and reached for the photograph, freeing it from the pages and handing it to Jimmy. It was the earliest and one of the few photographs she had of him, but it was fine – it would mean more to Jimmy than it ever could to her. She was glad that he wanted to have it.

He carefully reached for it, examining it again. He was getting strangely emotional about it, but he couldn’t quite tell why. He didn’t even know the boy in the photo, he was not real to Jimmy – yet, he was like a book character that comes to life through the story. He _had_ been a real boy, a real man.

Eleanor cleared her throat awkwardly. “Um, by the way, there’s a date on the other side, I think.”

Jimmy flipped the photo and a faded, handwritten ‘1933’ stared back at him, with the additional inscription that was half-faded and said: ‘Edward, –’ What followed was probably his age, but it was smudged and illegible.

“Thank you,” Jimmy said quietly, meeting Eleanor’s eyes with a look of gratitude.

It was only now that it truly hit her – this man was related to her. Her great-great grandfather, in flesh and blood. How extraordinary, peculiar, how insane! How fascinating and unbelievable! But there was something else – if this man was her ancestor, then she was not a Carter at all. Edward was not a Carter, nor grandpa Robert, and her dad wasn’t either.

“You said he had a son?” Thomas asked now.

Eleanor nodded. “Grandpa Robert. His only child. Then came my dad, Alan, and his sister Marie.

“I can’t believe it,” said Jimmy and burst into an awkward laugh. “So you’re all… _we’re_ all…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Eleanor knew what he meant. She nodded slowly and gave him a kind smile. _Perhaps there is a reason why we ran into each other after all._

But Jimmy’s face suddenly darkened. “I-I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I’d have known… I could’ve- could’ve been a better-“

“Don’t,” Eleanor and Thomas said in the same voice.

The woman continued: “Don’t say that, you didn’t know about it. It was as much her fault for not telling you that she had in fact had the baby.”

“Maybe she didn’t trust me,” Jimmy said in a disappointed tone. “Maybe she thought I’d be a lousy father, or wouldn’t want to be one at all-”

“But you would have been,” Thomas interrupted. “Had you known, you would have wanted to be a good dad to that boy, wouldn’t you? I know you, James Kent, and as reckless and head-first as you can be, you also take responsibility,” he said, looking Jimmy in the eye. “Your heart’s in the right place.”

Jimmy wanted to wrap his arms around Thomas, but he knew he couldn’t. He gave him a grateful smile. _What did I do to deserve you?_ he thought.

* * *

“Did you love her?” Thomas asked quietly, running his fingers through Jimmy’s hair, stroking it as they sat together in an armchair back in their room and looked out to the amber sky above the city. They had left Eleanor's apartment a while ago, but they were still talking about everything they had recently uncovered.

There was a long pause before Jimmy answered.

“I’m not sure,” he said in a sad tone. “I _liked_ her, but… I don’t know. I was lonely.”

Thomas nodded but said nothing.

“I would’ve taken care of him, y’know, as best as I could,” added the blonde man. “If I’d have known she’d kept him.”

Thomas kissed him on his temple. “I know.” He paused, but he wanted to say something else. He didn’t know how. He could grasp onto nothing, he couldn’t relate to it, and he didn’t know how exactly Jimmy felt, but he did want to be there for him. “If… If you want, we can look for him once we get back?”

Jimmy turned his head, looking up in surprise, but he was unable to hide that Thomas’s words made him happy. “You wouldn’t mind? Because I don’t want you to-” his voice faltered, but he managed to force himself to say it. “I don’t want you to doubt that I… care for you. Because I cared for a _woman_ once.”

Thomas shook his head. “No. I don’t doubt it, love,” he said lowly and paused again.

Jimmy noticed his hesitation. “But you don’t like the situation?” he asked insecurely and sat more upright in his lap.

“I don’t deny that I don’t quite understand it,” Thomas replied. “But why should it matter what I think, what’s done is done.”

“I _want_ it to matter,” Jimmy insisted. “I want you to tell me how you really feel about it because _you_ matter to me, Thomas.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and wrapped his hand around Thomas’s neck. “I don’t want this to ruin it. What’s between us.”

“Jimmy,” said Thomas quietly, placing his hand over Jimmy’s. “I’m happy for you, honestly. It’s an incredible thing – you have a son!” He stroked Jimmy’s hand. “I don’t care what happened in the past, love, I have one too and I can’t say I’m proud of my every decision. But all I want now is to focus on the future – will it be here or back at home, I don’t know. But I want it to be with you,” he said, then concluded in a quieter tone. “If… if you’ll have me.”

“Of course I’ll have you!” said Jimmy and dove into a kiss. “Under one condition,” he whispered against Thomas’s neck. “If you promise to call me ‘love’ again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose you need no explanation as to where 'Edward' and 'Robert' come from,  
> but just a fun fact: you get 'Alan' if you change the letters of my own name around, and I guess 'Elle' is 'L,' which is my initial. :P
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Next one will be a pretty intimate one ;)  
> Stay safe, healthy, and read fics :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s a bit longer again – but you’ll forgive me, intimacy takes time ;)
> 
> Also, next chapter will be up on 2 May, not next week! I’ll be posting a smutty new chapter to "The Adventures of Thomas & Jimmy" on 25 April though, so stay tuned for that! :)

“I want to kiss you,” Jimmy said with a burning desire in his voice and pulled Thomas by the collar. Once they’d made their way to the bed, Jimmy’s back hit the mattress and Thomas climbed on top of him, his hands eagerly sliding under his shirt.

“I want to kiss you and touch you and feel you against me-” Jimmy continued, _-because we can be ourselves here. Who knows how much longer we’ll stay in this world, and how we’ll have to be if- when we get home…_

“Hmm, yeah?” Thomas shushed him up with another kiss and pressed his thigh between Jimmy’s legs, rolling his hips down. Jimmy hummed with satisfaction as he arched his hips up to get some friction. He locked their lips again, tasting Thomas.

“And- I want to do _that_ ,” he said as his hand travelled under Thomas’s shirt, mapping the lines of his body which now felt so familiar to him. “That _thing_ you did to me yesterday.”

Thomas felt how Jimmy’s words ignited something in him, lighting fires throughout his body from his ears down to the hard-on inside his trousers.

Jimmy made himself look confident even though he wasn’t – but it was something born from a desire within Jimmy, and it guided him and gave him courage.

Together, they pulled Thomas’s shirt off and then Jimmy grabbed onto Thomas’s shoulders to turn them both around so that he was on top now. Thomas’s eyes opened wide with surprised over Jimmy’s dominance, but it was clear that he was enjoying it.

“But,” said Jimmy with emphasis as he tackled Thomas’s belt, pulling down his trousers, “I want us to…” He started stroking Thomas’s erection and Thomas found himself forgetting to breathe. “… to try something else while were here.”

Thomas groaned and pushed his hips into Jimmy’s hand as best as he could since he was pinned underneath him. “Hnn, yeah?” He couldn’t concentrate, not while Jimmy was doing _that_ to him.

“Well, there’s that _other thing,_ isn’t there?” Jimmy asked sheepishly.

“Mhm,” the other man mumbled and bared his neck for Jimmy to kiss. “What other thing?”

“There’s hands,” Jimmy began and ran his thumb teasingly along the tip of Thomas’s member. “There’s mouth,” he said and kissed behind Thomas’s ear, mouthing at it for a moment. Then he stopped, and as Thomas’s mind cleared, he realized what Jimmy was implying.

His mouth opened in surprise. “Oh, love,” he breathed, in his voice a heavy desire. “Are you sure?”

There was a short pause and Jimmy’s armour of confidence faded away.

“I want to know what it feels like,” he said quietly and clasped his hands behind Thomas’s neck. “I’ve heard about it – when a man… _takes_ another man.”

Thomas leaned forwards and kissed Jimmy devotedly on his collarbone, smoothing his palms down the cotton shirt which still covered his chest. “I don’t know how you came to hear about that,” he said with a small smile and then continued in an honest tone, “but I’d love to do that with you.”

"Yes, good,” Jimmy agreed and smiled nervously. “There’s just… um," Jimmy he hesitantly and focused away from Thomas’s eyes as he said it. "I want to be, uh… up here. If I can?”

"Oh?" smiled Thomas and ran his hands down Jimmy's abdomen. "Then I’ll have to prepare."

Jimmy’s brow suddenly furrowed in confusion. "What? Um- oh, no, I meant-" he started blushing again. "I want _you_ to do it to _me_ , I just want to be here as we-"

He didn’t know how to articulate it. It What was important to him was a sense of control; to not feel stripped of his masculinity as he thought he might feel if they did it like how he imagined it was ‘traditionally’ done, or like how he knew a man and a woman did it.

Thomas cupped Jimmy’s face. “Alright. Whatever you want,” he whispered. “I want to try it all with you.”

 _If there’s any time or place appropriate for getting buggered, it’s definitely here any now,_ Jimmy thought. His nervousness was ebbing away, replaced by desire when Thomas’s hands pulled off his shirt and stroked down from his shoulders to the small of his back. He met his eyes. “Yes, I want us to do it-”

Thomas stopped and looked at him with concern. “But…?”

“But… won’t it… y’know…” _I’ll be damned if I say ‘hurt’._ “Be uncomfortable? At least a bit?”

Their eyes locked and Thomas’s expression softened. He arched up to kiss Jimmy lightly on his lips. “I would never hurt you,” he whispered against Jimmy’s neck, leaving a kiss on his Adam’s apple. “It will be a bit uncomfortable at first, but then it will feel very good, I promise. If _you’d_ rather do it to me-”

Jimmy shook his head. “No, I want _you_ to do it to me,” he repeated determinedly and cleared his throat. “So, erm… shall we?”

Thomas grinned. "Come here," he said and pulled Jimmy down and into a kiss. His left hand caressed his cheek, while his left one slowly reached back and slipped into Jimmy’s trousers to traced the curve of Jimmy's other cheeks. “Lie down by me for a second,” Thomas instructed softly, and Jimmy climbed off him and settled himself down on his side, quickly working his trousers down.

Thomas climbed out of bed and rummaged through the gift basket on the table opposite it. “I think we’ll need- there was something in here, I’m pretty sure it was-”

Jimmy wasn’t really listening. There was nervous anticipation mixed with desire brewing inside him. He let his eyes linger on Thomas’s form, like an artist observing his model, every curve and every shape. The setting sun illuminated his skin. He looked so beautiful, so manly, and he was… he was Thomas.

Thomas returned triumphantly with a small bottle in his hand. “That’ll, uh… make it easier,” he explained, and he lay by Jimmy’s side, pressing his chest against Jimmy’s back.

Jimmy could feel Thomas’s erection hard against the back of his thigh and it made him nervous again, but also very eager. He was half-hard already since they started making out. He closed his eyes as Thomas’s warm palm stroked from his chest to his taut stomach, and then down to his thighs, behind-

-and then Thomas’s fingers slid into the cleft of Jimmy’s buttocks. Jimmy clenched his fist, twisting the sheets – it wasn’t out of pain, nothing had happened yet, it was just out of anxiousness.

“Relax,” Thomas whispered into his ear, nuzzling at it, causing Jimmy’s skin to break out in goose bumps. His breathing slowed down. From the poorly concealed lust in Thomas’s voice, the full extent of desire translated to him.

He heard Thomas opening the bottle, and then fingers explored the part of Jimmy that he had never imagined would ever be explored like that.

It _did_ hurt at first, but Thomas’s warm kisses against Jimmy’s neck, shoulders, and his other hand moving up and down Jimmy’s erection masked the pain, gradually mixing it with pleasure, until only pleasure remained. Jimmy leaned his head back, pressing it between Thomas’s shoulder and collarbone, and he reached back to thread his fingers through Thomas’s hair.

“Jimmy,” Thomas whispered in a raspy voice, and the blonde man felt a kiss on his wrist. “Is it ok?”

“Mhm.” Jimmy’s breaths came out ragged and quick, his brow furrowed. “Can we,” he spoke, unable to concentrate, arching back against Thomas’s fingers to take more, reaching with his hand to try and cup Thomas’s erection. “Can we turn around now? I think I’m - _ahh,_ I’m ready-”

Thomas buried his face in Jimmy’s neck at the feel of Jimmy’s hand on his hard-on. “Oh, god, love-”

They switched positions, turning around as Jimmy wanted it and he straddled Thomas as he had done before.

Thomas drank in Jimmy’s figure and his whole being. _What have I done to deserve you?_ he thought. In this moment he was almost too happy to bear it – even that sneaky feeling that always lurked in the shadows, persistently whispering in Thomas’s ear that whatever happiness he felt will only last a moment – even that feeling was gone now. Jimmy’s love gave him strength, and he was even happier for Jimmy; he saw that Jimmy allowing himself to be who he was had liberated him.

They shifted around a bit awkwardly at first, trying to position themselves. And then everything seemed to go still and silent. There was only the sound of their shallow breaths as Jimmy slowly lowered himself down.

Thomas anchored his hands on Jimmy’s hips to guide him. _I love you,_ he thought, and then he said it aloud. “I love you, Jimmy,” he whispered against his skin and pressed a kiss on his breastbone.

Jimmy’s warmth enveloped him and he let his eyes slide closed. “Hmm, yes,” he hissed. The air came out of his lungs in unsteady breaths. “Oh, _fuck_ \- you’re so warm.”

Jimmy chuckled, then echoed Thomas’s moan, slowly getting used to the feeling. This was definitely new and strange and perhaps not entirely comfortable from the start – but it was Thomas, and god, Jimmy wanted this man more than he realized.

They stayed like this for a few moments, settling into it. Jimmy’s hands were laced behind Thomas’s neck, and he rested his forehead against his.

“That ok?” Thomas asked and placed a palm along his cheek.

Jimmy nodded. “More than ok.”

Thomas let out a small chuckle. “Good, I’m glad,” he muttered, concentrating on slowly moving his hips while holding back his desire. _You’re everything, you’re so bloody perfect,_ he thought, and even though he knew Jimmy was not without fault, he loved his faults too – they were what made him perfect.

Gradually, Jimmy began moving too, meeting Thomas’s thrusts. They fell into a slow rhythm, and then eventually started gaining momentum.

“That’s interesting,” Jimmy breathed with a laugh, and his hands dug into Thomas’s shoulders. “Hmm- Thomas… oh, _yes,_ ” he sighed as Thomas hit the spot that made Jimmy’s knees weak even though he wasn’t standing.

Thomas ran his palms up and down Jimmy’s back, trying to hold him close. He was completely entranced by the gilded statue of the man moving above him, making those sinful, pleasurable sounds. He sank into the music of Jimmy’s moans, into the heat of their bodies, and let his mind wander off. He didn't just adore Jimmy's body beyond words; he was in love with his mind, with his cocky and overly confident side, his vulnerability underneath, his way of getting into trouble. He loved every inch and every neuron of that man, or perhaps now he was in a state where he could feel nothing but pure ecstasy - but Jimmy _was_ ecstasy. He was his everything.

“Come here,” Thomas whispered, out of breath as he was, and he pulled Jimmy down into a deep kiss, wanting him closer still. He let his hand run through his soft hair, and he thrust in deep, feeling Jimmy’s muscles tensing around him.

“Oh-f- fuck, Thomas,” Jimmy swore and buried his face in Thomas’s shoulder.

Thomas couldn’t think about anything else, feel anything else, he didn’t care about anything but this moment. He felt his erection throbbing inside Jimmy's warm body, painfully hard. He wrapped his hands around Jimmy’s hard-on, synchronizing the motions of his hand with the movement of his hips.

“Yes, _ah_ \- god-” groaned Jimmy and started moving faster in top of Thomas, grabbing onto the bed-frame behind them for balance.

“Jimmy you’re- _ah_ \- you’re so-” Thomas tried to form words, but they failed him every time. Jimmy’s golden body on top of his own, every muscle perfectly illuminated by the last sunrays of the day that were pouring in through the large windows, the way he felt him arch back and press down with his hips – Thomas knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Jimmy opened his eyes for a moment; there was a heavy desire in them, and his lips were parted and dry. Thomas decided to mend this. He leaned in, trapping Jimmy’s mouth into a kiss just as Jimmy came.

“Th- Thomas, I’m- ah-”

“Yes, yes, love,” Thomas garbled into the kiss and pushed into Jimmy again and again. He came the moment he felt Jimmy surrender to it, while still guiding Jimmy through the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

Thomas’s hands, one his back and one on his hard-on, felt so warm to Jimmy that they might as well have been leaving burn marks behind.

Jimmy reached for the hand that was pressed against his back and brought it forward. He intertwined his fingers with Thomas’s, holding tightly.

“M- my Thomas,” he whispered against Thomas’s skin, holding him close and pinning their bodies together as they rocked up and down lazily, both spent and worn out.

Thomas felt pinpricks of tears in his eyes. He buried his face in Jimmy’s neck, kissing his sweaty skin. “I’m yours, love,” he mouthed against it. “I’m yours.” He felt Jimmy’s hand on his cheek.

“And I’m yours,” Jimmy whispered in return, gently lifting Thomas’s head up to meet his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask how Thomas knew what the lube was for. He's a smart and worldly cookie, and it was necessary because as Shakespeare would say - the plot wilt moveth f'rward.


	17. Chapter 17

_“I take it your friends must have been busy, then. Since they couldn’t join us,” Eleanor said and glanced at Peter with a small smirk._

_He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah... well, I did say ‘possibly’-”_

_“’Probably,’” Eleanor corrected him, a corner of her mouth lifting upwards._

_Peter smiled. “’Probably,’ right.”_

_“That’s fine, though,” Eleanor added quickly to show that she didn’t dislike the turn of events. “You’re good company. Just you.”_

_Peter turned to her with a gentle expression as they walked down the street back towards the hotel. “I’m glad you said yes to the movie.”_

_There was something in his voice that made Eleanor happy, but also a bit afraid. At this point, they both knew where they stood; it was only the matter of taking a step forward or not. She felt some invisible hands holding her back – she’d been friends with Peter for years, since before he started working at the Intercontinental. Perhaps she might even consider the option of fancying him in the beginning, but they’d been friends for so long now that she was afraid to stir their friendship – she didn’t want to lose everything in case it didn’t work out._

_On top of everything, she had other things to worry about at the moment – how to get her great-grandfather and his probably-boyfriend back to 1922, for example._

_“Everything alright?” Peter asked, noticing her pensiveness reflecting on her face._

_She brushed it off. “Yeah, I was just… you know. Thinking…”_

_“About what?”_

_She considered how to answer this for a moment. The street was busy and there were many people passing them by; couples laughing, families on evening walks, groups of friends enjoying their night out, drunken club-goers here and there. The stars above them were shining brightly, their glow unaffected by the street lights and by the busy crowds of people moving on with their lives far, far below, on this huge rotating rock in the middle of space. Eleanor felt incredibly small and unimportant, a mere grain of sand on the beach of life. She wondered what this exact street may have looked like in 1922._

_“How strange life can be,” she finally said and shrugged. “How it can feel like a movie sometimes. Only, you’re not the writer, you’re just a small, minor actor with no free will, just a piece being moved around. You have no idea where you’re going, what your fate is, what life has in store for you.”_

_“Existentialism,” commented Peter, but he seemed genuinely interested in her ramblings. “Why can’t you be the writer and the player?”_

_She shrugged and took a breath. “You can, I s’ppose. But some things are just beyond our control, aren’t they?”_

_Peter brushed back a curl of his hair as he pondered on a reply. “Some things are, yes…” he agreed. “When and where we are be born - why, in fact - when we’re going to die, who will walk into our lives and whose lives we are going to walk into…” he paused for a moment. “But if I were to, for example, ask you if you’d like to go somewhere with me again, I would assume you’d have full autonomy over the answer?”_

_Eleanor laughed. “That I would.” Peter seemed to be waiting for a reply, so she quickly added: “I would like to, yes, but- I have some things to take care of first.”_

_A spark in his eyes dimmed, even though he tried to hide his feelings. Eleanor felt bad._

_“It’s really important, I’m sorry. I just think we’d be better off with all of this once I sort that problem.” She thought how to best explain it. “It’s… family matters, you know.”_

_“Sure thing, I get it.” Peter gave her a sad smile, trying to look undisturbed. “I thought it was something to do with your friends, Thomas and Jimmy.”_

Well, you’re not far off, _she thought. “No, but they- their, uh… trip got prolonged too, actually. They’ll be staying here a bit longer, it turns out.”_

_“Ah, are they attending that historian conference about the Middle Ages next week?”_

_Eleanor grabbed the opportunity. “Uh, yeah, they are actually.” She had no idea what he was referring to, but it was very fitting._

_Peter looked at her and smiled in a rather unusual way. He reached into his pocket and fished out a folded leaflet. He offered it to Eleanor who glossed through it._

‘The Royal Historical Society: Myths and Mysteries of the Middle Ages,’ Blah, blah, blah- oh… _Her eyes spotted the date and her face began to go red – the convention had already ended. Last week._

_“Right…” she said quietly, looking somewhere out into the distance._

_“Elle, if you don’t want to tell me anything about them, that’s fine,” Peter said calmly. “But honestly, no need to feel like you need to lie to me.”_

_Eleanor had a good reason, of course, but even if she did tell him, what were the odds that he would believe her? He wasn’t like Alice, he was a realist. Besides, Eleanor didn’t have any proof with her to support her claims if she tried to convince Peter that Thomas and Jimmy were from the past._

_She forced herself to look him in the eye. “I didn’t want to lie,” she said. “I don’t think I can tell you who they really are because you wouldn’t understand-”_

_“Try me.”_

_She smiled ironically. Of course, the classic ‘try me.’ “I wish I could, but you’ll think we’ve all gone off the rails.”_

_“Your secret ex-boyfriends then, both of 'em?”_

_Eleanor snorted. “Ok, I don’t mean crazy in_ that _way,” she insisted. “It’s much, much, much weirder, trust me.”_

_“How can I, if you won’t tell me?”_

_Eleanor sighed, but when she looked at Peter she couldn’t help but smile. There was such genuine curiosity on his face, something so innocent. He was open-minded, but was he_ that _open-minded? So much so that he would consider time travel or whatever this was to be a plausible thing?_

_She stopped under a street lamp and her expression turned very serious. “If I tell you this,” she slowly began, “then you’ll have to promise me two things; take it with an open mind, because it’s just as weird for me, believe me. S’ppose I’m simply more used to it by now.”_

_She paused and Peter took it as a cue to nod. “Alright. And the second thing?” he asked._

_She took a deep breath, weighing one last time whether she should tell him or not. “The second thing is: whatever you may think of it, whether you believe me or not – you mustn’t tell anyone.”_

_“Damn,” he said and raised an eyebrow. He was still being a bit witty about it, but Eleanor knew it was only because he had no clue what he was about to hear. “It’s that serious? Ok, I promise that I’ll take it with an open mind, and I won’t tell anyone.”_

* * *

“D’you think… we could stay?” Jimmy asked, lazily twirling his fingers over Thomas’s chest, stroking the trail of black hair.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what we can and can’t do anymore,” smiled Thomas and ran his hand from Jimmy’s neck down to his shoulder. “If I can hold you close. Touch you.” He leaned in into a kiss, gently brushing his lips over Jimmy’s. “Kiss you,” he whispered.

“Maybe we died and went to heaven,” mused Jimmy, and Thomas’s lips stretched into a wide smile.

“I don’t think our lot is s’pposed to go to heaven,” he said, placing his palm along Jimmy’s jaw line and meeting his eyes. “But I like it better here anyway.”

“Mmm, me too,” murmured Jimmy contently, resting his head back down on Thomas’s chest. He felt happier than ever before in his life. It was so little, yet it meant so much. He never dreamed of imagining himself in Thomas’s arms, but now he never wanted it to end. His life was in shambles, he was unemployed, in a world that was not his, surrounded by strangers – and yet, having Thomas with him somehow made everything alright.

But there was still something; something bittersweet about it…

He felt it, and he knew that Thomas did too – the time slipping away, slowly escaping the amazing and bizarre bubble which they found themselves in. It was as if the time had stopped, only for the two of them, but surely it was only for a short while. They would have to go back to 1920 at some point… Wouldn’t they?

Could they stay here where life accepted them as they were? Naturally, they wouldn’t stay at the Intercontinental forever, taking advantage of Eleanor’s hospitality even further. They could find jobs here, find a flat or- Oh god, it sounded terrifying! But not impossible. If that was how things were now…

“What are you thinking about?” Thomas asked quietly, running his fingers lightly through Jimmy’s hair.

Jimmy gave a little shrug. “Just how…” He let his mind trailed off and he pressed a kiss on Thomas’s chest. “How much I love this,” he said and looked up. “Us, here, just… y’know… not having to get up at six every bloody morning.”

Thomas smiled. “Mhm, this lazing about’s not half bad. Good company too,” he winked.

“I could get used to it.”

Thomas’s smile faltered. “Better not.”

Jimmy gave a small nod. “Don’t have to stop yet, though.”

“Not yet,” Thomas repeated, pressing a kiss on Jimmy’s forehead.

Suddenly, as if by some impulse, Jimmy rose up and sauntered over to the window, leaving the bed covers behind.

“Come over here, somebody will see you,” urged Thomas in confusion, but Jimmy ignored him.

“Only birds can see us from up here,” he said and grinned. “And they’re asleep now. Look how beautiful the night is,” he sighed, peering at the moon and the stars. He turned his face towards Thomas; silver in the moonlight, happy. Happy and carefree, the only trace of burden was the thought of the future.

Thomas had no choice but to get out of bed too, and join him.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Jimmy asked.

The city below them was bustling with lights and people that didn’t fit into Thomas and Jimmy's world; yet the stars almost looked the same as theirs, just as they would if you were to look at them from the small attic window at Downton in 1922. That was probably because they _were_ the same stars. They made both of them feel a sense of home.

Ultimately, Thomas didn’t care as much for the view of the star-lit city, but he felt blessed by the sight in front of him.

He wrapped his arms around Jimmy’s torso and leaned in closer, pressing his chest against Jimmy’s back. He savoured the feeling of his warm skin and smiled as Jimmy’s hands came up to rest over Thomas’s. “It really is,” he whispered, leaving a kiss on that golden neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm piling in those 'Jimmy=gold' metaphors, I know :P  
> The first two thirds of this chapter is a flashback to Friday night, but the Thomas-Jimmy section is Saturday night, taking place right after ch 16.
> 
> Stay tuned for next chapter next Saturday! :)
> 
> p.s. I know it says 20 chapters atm, but there might end up being 21.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great-great-granddaughter and great-great-grandfather bonding time. :)

Eleanor was sitting in bed with her cup of tea, replying to some business emails, but the conversation from a few days ago persistently kept replaying in her mind.

 _I shouldn’t have told him,_ she thought and realized she was biting her nails, a habit she had given up years ago. _But he’s not going to do anything to expose them, do something to harm them… Especially since he doesn’t believe it. ‘Try me,’ hah!_ She took a sip of her beverage and scoffed but smiled _._ She hadn’t heard from Peter since that Friday night, and he had the weekend off so she hadn’t seen him at the hotel. _Of course he didn’t believe you, why should he? And now that second date’s out of the question too – if that doesn’t scare him off, nothing will._ She wanted to smile to herself at the joke, but in truth she wasn’t completely indifferent to the idea of another date. She certainly wasn’t indifferent to losing a good friend. _Maybe he’ll come around eventually... The two people I trust most in this world know – well, they don’t know the full extent of it, but even so–_

There was a knock on the door and when Eleanor crawled out of bed to open in, she found Jimmy standing there. He greeted her and, being quick to the point, held out the photograph of the servants from the diary.

“I just remembered… I never returned it-”

“Well, it’s really more yours than mine, I suppose,” she smiled and shrugged. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to take it, but for some reason it seemed more fitting that Jimmy should have it, now that it was clear who he was.

Jimmy looked at the photo. “I know these people. I knew Anna. And for now, at least, I know what _I_ look like,” he added with a kind smile. “You might like it to help you remember. It’ll fit well in your album.”

It dawned on Eleanor why he wanted her to have the photograph, and she felt rude for almost rejecting it. It was a part of him, even if he wasn’t in it. She returned the smile and reached for the photograph. “I _do_ know you, though,” she added. “Even if- when you two leave, I doubt I’ll be forgetting you any time soon – or all of this, for that matter.”

Jimmy looked grateful and Eleanor invited him to come inside. But as he sat on the couch, he dropped his gaze and his expression took on a serious hue. “I’m sorry. How everything turned out,” he said. “I know there’s no point in saying it to you ‘cause you were hardly directly affected, but you really are the only person who-”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Eleanor interrupted. “And you shouldn’t feel that way. You didn’t know your son existed, you didn’t know about anything that happened after. I know you – at least a little – and I’d say you’re an alright bloke,” she continued. “Just the fact that you feel this way tells me you have a conscience. You’re alright… _grandpa_ Jimmy,” she added humorously and nudged him with her elbow.

It was far from a good joke, but Eleanor hated the tension. At least she got a smile from Jimmy. He laughed, but it was a terribly odd thing to hear himself be called.

“I, uh… I never asked you how the movies was,” Jimmy remembered, trying to stir the conversation in a more light-hearted direction. He felt a bit stupid asking this now, since it had been two days ago.

Eleanor smiled. “Fun. Good film. Good company too.”

“What was it about?”

“Adventure,” she replied. “I think you would like it, but I don’t know how you would handle all the lights and loudness and the effects – wait, do you still only have silent films in the twenties?”

Jimmy nodded. “That’s all I’ve ever seen.”

“Well then, you’d first have to get used to people speaking in films,” she smiled.

Jimmy did too, then tilted his head in interest and tried to sound nonchalant. “And it was just you and Peter?” He suddenly felt a strange sense of responsibility for this young woman who was after all related to him. It was odd since he only knew her for a week, but be it as it might, she was his closest relative at the moment in both space and time. He felt a sense of kinship with her.

Eleanor tried to hold back a smirk, sensing what he was aiming at. “He’s ok, you know, Pete. We’ve known each other for years. He was in my cousin’s band when they were younger.”

Jimmy was intrigued. “Was he?”

Eleanor nodded. “Lead guitarist. They were pretty good for sixteen, seventeen year old boys. They even managed to convince the drummer’s brother to play at his wedding.”

Jimmy smiled. “Must ’ave been good enough, then.”

Eleanor grinned and shook her head. “Well, they weren’t bad, but the bride was furious when she found out what her husband-to-be had agreed to. She had something classy in mind, not these four teenage boys who played mostly rock covers. But they surprised her – the groom told them to lean her favourite song for the first dance, and when they played it she totally changed her tune.”

They strolled out to the balcony. It was decently warm for late February.

“Did you ever have any gigs?” she asked Jimmy, but he gave her a bewildered look in return.

“Gigs?”

“Oh,” she remembered. “I mean, did you ever play anywhere. For any special occasion or something like that.”

He shook his head. “Nah, just for my family, really. And now downstairs, but nothing else; in the evenings, when we have a bit of time off. It’s good enough, but it’s a ragged old thing, the piano in the servant’s hall. The Crawleys, they have this proper, beautiful one in the hall upstairs. The closest I get to it is when I have to polish it.”

“Well, maybe if they heard you play, they’d let you play the posh thing,” Eleanor suggested with a benevolent innocence.

Jimmy smiled. “You don’t know how it works. A servant’s a servant, and a lord is a lord. They’re alright, the Crawleys, but some things just are the way they are.”

Eleanor pondered on his words. It seemed a shame. “How long have you worked there?” she wondered.

“About two years now.”

“And Thomas?”

“Oh, he’s been there much longer. Started out as a hall boy,” Jimmy replied.

Eleanor hesitated for a moment, but then she decided to ask him anyway. “Did… did you always like him?

Jimmy turned to her with a confused, slightly embarrassed look.

“I saw you,” she said casually.

Jimmy’s heart dropped, and he struggled to maintain a neutral expression. “Wh-what?”

“On the balcony one evening, the day you moved into the hotel room.”

It was a load off Jimmy’s shoulders. If she saw them there, she _only_ saw them kissing. _Oh, god, ‘only’?!_

“I don’t have anything against it, mind you,” the young woman quickly added, aware of the prevalent mindset of Jimmy’s time. “I’m not judging or trying to corner you or anything. I’m just curious,” she said with a friendly smile. “But how d’you make it work? In the twenties, I mean. The risks and all…”

Jimmy twiddled with his fingers uncomfortably, looking down. “We… we haven’t tried to make it work all that much yet.”

She tilted her head curiously.

Jimmy took a breath. “We haven’t… _done_ much before we came here.”

Eleanor’s eyebrows rose up in surprise.

Jimmy shook his head once he realized how his words had come across. “No, no! I didn’t mean- god, no, er…” He felt himself blushing and his palms became sweaty. “I didn’t mean ‘done’ as in…” _God, Jimmy will you just shut up!_ “I only meant we’d never… we didn’t know about each other’s feelings up to now,” he quickly concluded, even though it was hardly the truth – but it got him out of this agonizingly embarrassing situation.

Eleanor smiled. “I see.” She saw that she was making him uneasy with her questions – of course, people didn’t discuss these things way back when – but it was quite endearing how awkward he was, talking about the matter. _Perhaps you didn’t acknowledge it, but you must have known if you liked him, or at least had some clue if he liked you._ “But you had no idea? Surely, there must have been something that made you suspect how he felt about you?”

Jimmy avoided her stare. He thought of the time at the fair when Thomas saved his life – or saved his good looks, at least – of the day they met, when he walked into the room full of people, but Thomas was the only person he saw and he thought he was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. How afraid of himself he was after that day for feeling that way. And how Thomas saw him that evening, half dressed, and how oddly nervous Jimmy was – but he also _wanted_ him to look. He _liked_ that he looked. And then how Thomas put his hand over his when he taught him how to wind the clock. He stood behind him, his other hand resting on Jimmy’s shoulder – he remembered it all – it felt as if everything around them had faded into the background. The ticks of the clock were merging with Jimmy’s heartbeat. There was only Thomas’s voice, his breath against the skin of Jimmy’s neck. Jimmy thought that maybe he could turn his head ever so slightly, just enough to meet Thomas’s eyes, get a little bit closer, maybe their cheeks would touch – what would Thomas have done if Jimmy did that?

A sudden need for candidness overtook him. He could never imagine himself telling this to anyone, but this was a different world; and a person, his own blood, who could have easily been a figment of his imagination – once he and Thomas return, she will be. He wondered yet again, for a second, if he was dreaming.

“There was a cricket match,” Jimmy said quietly and then frowned. “But there was this… thing, back then. Between us. We weren’t on the best of terms.” _I was a cowardly idiot._

Eleanor listened attentively.

“Besides, I couldn’t stare or anything, anyway,” Jimmy continued. “But it was hard not to – Thomas is very good at cricket. Even Lord Grantham shook his hand in the end; and rightfully so, he won us more than half the scores,” he said and smiled to himself. “No, I couldn’t _really_ stare, but I did look at him every now and then. All in white, just his black hair, y’know. A bit dishevelled, over his eyes. He looked… nice.”

A bittersweet happiness washed over Eleanor. It sounded lovely, everything he was saying – but she knew there was nothing they could do to break free from that cage that they were trapped in; the beliefs of their time. She gave him a kind smile. “Must be pretty great, huh? Being in love with your best friend.”

Jimmy looked down and smiled. _It is,_ he thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

There was a short silence between them and Jimmy pondered about something.

“Eleanor?” he addressed her. “What you said about men in this time – that they can be together and there’s no law against it… Well, how recent is this? I mean, when did people start… accepting it?”

Eleanor let her eyes linger on Jimmy. Reading between the lines, she knew what he was asking: ‘will we live to see the day when we can be together if we go back to our own time?’ She knew it would get worse before it got better if you lived through the first half of the 20th century. Jimmy was what? In his mid-twenties and Thomas probably early thirties… they _could_ have been alive when the decriminalization act was passed, but they wouldn’t have benefited much from it.

“Legally, the law has been in place for some time. Closer to your time than mine.” She didn’t want to give him a number. “But good people have always accepted it,” she added empathically. “Regardless of space and time, there will always be those who are kind and respectful to you.”

“Right,” nodded Jimmy and he looked away. “But in our time, we’ll always have to hide it…” His tone was dry, neutral, even. But there was a heaviness in it that made Eleanor sad.

“You pull one of the shortest ends of the sick with this, I know, but still…” She lost her train of thought. She wasn’t good at comforting people. “Look, there will always be those who accept you and those who don’t. And no matter who you are, how good of a person you are, someone will always find a way to hate you. I wish I could give you better advice or tell you something more uplifting… But I think despite everything, you’re still pretty lucky.”

Jimmy scoffed. “Lucky?”

“To have someone who loves you. Shouldn’t take it for granted. To have someone who’s ready to be with you even though it means risking everything. And that you’re willing to do the same for him.”

Jimmy took some time to consider her words. She was right… perhaps what was most valuable was the fact that he and Thomas had each other, no matter the circumstances. Jimmy tried imagining his life before Thomas, before their kiss. He knew he was much stronger now, even if the circumstances may have gotten harder. He furrowed his brow pensively. “How old are you?” he asked Eleanor.

The young woman blinked at him in confusion. “Um, twenty three in May. Why?”

Jimmy nodded to himself. “Wise beyond your years,” he said in a ceremonious tone. “Must come from my side of the family.”

They both burst into a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I’m pretty sure the maids would dust and polish wooden furniture, pianos, etc., not the footmen, but it seemed like a fitting phrase in that dialogue, so I went with it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elle shares some practical advice.

“I’ve been thinking,” Eleanor began. “I feel like we’ve been going in circles lately, trying to solve your situation. But maybe… maybe we could try the station again tomorrow? I don’t believe people like Mrs Clegg, but perhaps it’s worth a try – given that it’s Monday, like when you arrived. If we go there at the same time you got here, it will be ‘same time’ too, not just same place.”

Eleanor had dropped by after work. The trio were sitting on the balcony at Thomas and Jimmy’s room. The two men were smoking leisurely and watching the city below. Elle had brought some interesting snacks too – she said they were called crisps – and they were munching on them.

“Right, we’ll have to do something to try and get back to-” Thomas began saying, but he suddenly paused and pressed a hand on his forehead, his brows knitted together, eyes closed. “Uh- to Downton.”

Eleanor gave him a suspicious and concerned look. “What’s wrong?”

“Headache,” Thomas brushed it off and took another drag of his cigarette.

Eleanor’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “Then cigarettes are probably going to make it worse,” she said in an unusually motherly tone. She felt a pang of worry. What if it was something from the accident?

“Good luck getting him to ditch smoking,” Jimmy commented, but he was concerned about Thomas too. He put his hand over Thomas’s shoulder in a ‘just-friends’ sort of manner – even though he knew that what was between the two of them was an open secret to Eleanor.

“Oh, come on, I’m fine,” Thomas said and tried to smile in order to reaffirm his point.

Eleanor shrugged. “Take a rest if you need to, you’ve nowhere to be-”

“I’m alright, really,” Thomas insisted.

“Don’t be stubborn,” Jimmy interrupted. “It’s been bugging you since this morning, you said so.”

Eleanor’s stomach dropped. _What if it really is some late reaction to the injuries from when he was hit by that cyclist?_

If Jimmy were to let either of them know that he felt as if he was coming down with a strange headache too... but maybe it was just something in the air. Something from this time. All these fumes from the cars – or even just worrying. That would explain both him and Thomas…

“D’you think it will work this time?” Jimmy asked instead, trying to change the topic. “D’you think we’ll be able to go back? Will we just… disappear, as we appeared here?”

Eleanor gave him a sad smile. “I don’t know. I don’t know _how_ it is going to work if it does. But I think we’re out of options. And as much as I don’t believe in the supernatural and in the gibberish that Mrs Clegg had told us, I think we’ll have to resort to some pretty strange alternatives. It’s nothing we can explain with common sense, so what else can we do?”

Jimmy nodded pensively. It was not as if the two of them had any better ideas. “And… if it fails?”

Eleanor shrugged. “Then we try again. We get more books, browse the internet, try different things. See the old lady again,” she smirked mischievously and said the last bit with a hint of sarcasm: “We make sure you ‘learn your lesson.’”

They smiled, but they were all thinking it: What if it _doesn’t_ work? It was, after all, the more believable way the events could play out.

“Worst case scenario,” Eleanor said seriously now. “I guess… you stay here… and we try to make the best of it.” Her statements sounded more like questions, and even though she tried she didn’t sound very reassuring. “We’ll help you, Alice and I. And Pete.”

Both Thomas and Jimmy were quietly mulling over her words. She realized that they didn’t know that Peter knew a part of their story, and frankly, Eleanor wasn’t sure how _he_ felt about it. After he dropped her at the hotel and went home that Friday night, he had on that distinct ‘pensive-Peter’ expression. He had laughed it all off as a joke, but he was thinking about it hard, she knew. And what did he conclude?

“It’s not so bad here, is it?” she asked, hoping to get a positive reaction from Thomas and Jimmy. Of course, she knew that telling them that they would have to stay in a time a hundred years ahead of their own era was a terrifying thing. They had already become familiar with some things and concepts, there were positive sides to this time, indeed – but could they ever truly understand the complex functioning of this world? Eleanor was sure that not even _she_ understood it, nor anyone she knew, even though they were all living it since birth.

The world was so much different now than it was in the 1920 – yet on so many levels it was still very much the same. That was speaking universally, on a macro scale; but how can you accept this on an individual level where every tiny little detail, every change in your life makes your life yours? Your life; a measly grain of sand in the great clock of time; your life, unique and unrepeatable. Life that will ultimately add up to the sameness of every era and every individual.

Eleanor cleared her throat. “Anyway,” she continued. “I have something for you. If we, uh… if we _do_ manage to get you back somehow, I want you to take these.” She reached into her bag and brought out a small pewter box.

The two men exchanged confused looks.

“What is it?” wondered Thomas.

“Just thought they’d help you a bit. Getting started and all,” she explained. “Here. Please, take it.”

She pushed the box into Jimmy’s hands.

It felt heavier than it looked. The blonde man opened it; immediately his eyes widened in surprise at its contents, and he gave Eleanor a stern, yet shocked look.

“What is this? Why would you give this to us?”

“I told you why,” Eleanor insisted. “Look, they’re… Let’s call them family trinkets,” she said and gave them a little smile.

In the box were a few silver and gold rings, a golden brooch, two necklaces, one of which had a fancy ivory pendant attached to it.

“You won’t get much for them, I suppose, but it should help a little. If you want to leave service, get a place of your own, perhaps. Make yourselves more independent. The box must be worth something too. I can’t give you any currency, obviously-”

“Eleanor,” Jimmy interrupted her. “We can’t take them.”

Thomas, who was also looking at the contents of the box, shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t be daft, keep them.”

But Eleanor had made up her mind. She knew she wanted to do this. “They’re as much mine as they are yours,” she said to Jimmy. “I’m pretty sure granddad bought that brooch for nana, so it’s his money and…” she was getting caught up in her words. “It’s family. Let family help you.”

Jimmy looked stunned, and Eleanor couldn’t tell if he was angry or touched, or perhaps a bit of both.

“Family? I did nothing for that boy,” he raised his voice. The onset of his strange headache was intensifying. “I would have no idea if it weren’t for this weird turn of events-”

“Exactly!” Eleanor exclaimed. “It’s something neither of us would have known about if out paths hadn’t crossed-” She realized at that moment– _Was that their lesson?_ “Let something good come of it. Look, I don’t need these things, no one in my family does. That’s why they sit in the box, collecting dust. Sure, they’re mementos, but they could be much more,” Eleanor explained. “They could buy you a slice of independence.”

Jimmy looked a little less angry, and like he was trying to make sense of her words. But Thomas’s pride was hurt.

“So pity?” he asked. “Is this what this is?”

Eleanor shook her head. “I’m trying to help,” she insisted. “I’m giving my great grandfather back the things his descendants will have – would have had? In fact, if I give them to you I don’t know how that’s all going to play out, to be honest,” she suddenly realized. “But don’t take it as pity. Take it as choices. Opportunities, a head-start. So that you can try to make your own luck in the world.”

Thomas’s defensiveness waned, and Jimmy stared at the box in his hands.

“Why are you doing this for us?” he asked quietly.

Eleanor shrugged. “I like helping people. And as things stand, you’re family,” she said and turned to Thomas. “Both of you. That means all the more reason to help.”

“And if we do go back – but _it_ doesn’t come with us?” wondered Jimmy.

“Then we will have tried and failed,” replied Eleanor. “But why shouldn’t it go with you? If your bodies aren’t obeying the rules of space and time, and if your suitcases arrived with you, I don’t see why this little box shouldn’t.”

She knew her logic was like a grater, full of holes through and through, but everything else was unreasonable; how can you build on that?

Thomas and Jimmy exchanged a long look. Then Jimmy looked at Eleanor and gave her a small nod. “Thank you,” he said, and the other man echoed his gratitude.

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Just use it wisely,” added the young woman. “I know life back then was – actually, I can’t begin to imagine what life was like back then,” she corrected herself. “But I know it wasn’t easy, especially if… look; you may never be completely free, but you’ll get closest to freedom if you’re independent. That’s what I’m hoping to give you. A chance.”

To be free – what was it, truly? Thomas used to look for freedom in promotion; getting to the top, so that no one was above you and you get to be the ringmaster. But in truth, there was always someone above you, especially if you were a working class bloke in service. He should have figured it out sooner… or perhaps he did, but he never considered it because getting enough money to get on a different path was practically impossible on his wages. And now this stranger comes into their lives – or rather they come into hers – and nothing makes sense, and Jimmy wants to be with him, and suddenly they have a chance- but god, this headache was making him lose his train of thought!

Jimmy pondered on Eleanor’s words as well. It was a potential for a life he had never imagined he could live. Now that the door was opening, he wanted to jump straight through and savour what was on the other side. Just the thought of Downton made him feel like he was suffocating. Eleanor had a point. To love a man – to dare to love a man, yes – was made easier thorough independence. Everything from this past week was whirling around in Jimmy’s mind and he was sure that it was responsible for the pounding in his head. A son, a great-great-granddaughter. Stepping through the looking glass into a different world. The man he loved and wanted to be with.

“Oh, there’s another thing, though,” Eleanor added hesitantly and Jimmy noticed that she looked like she was blushing. “Well, if you, uh… if you’re going to be…” _Fuck, how do you even say this to two blokes from the twenties?!_ “In this time, medicine has made some significant progress. We know more and… Please, don’t take this the wrong way, I’d only like to advise you that if you’ll be having…” _Just say it! Say ‘condoms good’ and get it over with!_ “I believe you’re familiar with, eh… condoms?”

They stared at her, perhaps with a slight hint of shock that a young woman was discussing such matters.

“They’re uh… they’re good. Useful. Not just for a man and a woman.” _Could you be any less eloquent?!_ “I’d like you to be safe. Diseases and such… Condoms prevent them – as I know you’ve heard.” She had done the research. Apparently, they were giving them away to soldiers towards the end of the war- _But wait – can they even buy them at a shop in the twenties, though?_ “Anyway, if you can get them, please be safe when you…” she finally gave up on her unfortunate monologue and let the words slowly fade out.

Thomas and Jimmy looked at her and then at each other with uncertain expressions.

“Right,” Thomas nodded. “Well, um, thank you,” he said in the most formal voice he could muster.

Jimmy gave her a forced smile, his bafflement still shining through. He couldn’t think of a reply.

 _Ok, that’s that settled,_ Eleanor thought to herself, avoiding eye contact with both of them. Whether it got through to them or not, she gave it a go. “So, we’ll try the station tomorrow, then?”

The pair nodded, happy to leave the condom-topic as far behind as possible. Both escorted Eleanor to the door.

“See you tomorrow, then,” said Thomas.

“Thanks again-” Jimmy began, but for a split second he seemed confused. He shook his head and smiled. “Thanks, Elle.”

Eleanor returned the smile, but there was something terribly strange and concerning about these two men today, and she doubted it was only due to this last minute condom-talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never thought I’d use the phrase ‘condom-talk,’ but here we are.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter! I know I'm the one writing this, and yet I can't believe it's almost over. It seems like I only started this fic a few days ago...  
> The last chapter might be a bit longer as well :)

He still wondered about what she had told him after the movies. He thought she was messing with him, and he felt an idiot for it, but he wasn’t going to start ignoring her or anything like that. Especially not now. Especially not now that she sounded like she was truly in need of help.

When Peter got up to 211 he found Eleanor standing outside in the corridor, terribly distressed, almost on the verge of tears, even more so than when she rang him down to the reception.

“Elle? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head despondently. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “Pete, I’m so glad you came! I’m sorry about Friday, I knew I shouldn't have- I knew it would be too-”

“Never mind that now,” Peter put his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. “Just tell me what’s going on?”

Tears glistened in her eyes through. “Something- something’s not right with them…”

“With Thomas and Jimmy?”

“They were fine yesterday,” Eleanor insisted, but then took a moment to reconsider. “Ish… Oh, but now- just come in,” she said and dragged him into the room.

Jimmy, who had been sitting on the couch, stood up to attention. “Oh, hello, sir. I thought you were his Lordship,” he said. Thomas was standing by the window and he turned around to see who it was. He stood upright, but said nothing.

“I came to see them this morning,” Eleanor proceeded to explain to Peter. “And they do these… _things_. One minute they act like completely different people, they stare at me like they’ve never seen me before – but then they come back and remember-”

Peter shook his head in disbelief. “Wait – is this a prank? To convince me that they really are from the past or something?”

Eleanor buried her face into her palms. “Peter, I swear, I’m not making anything up! Something strange is happening,” she said in a gravely serious tone. “I don’t care what you believe about them, but you’re here – look! _This_ , what you see here, this is real,” her strength left her and her lips tightened into a defiant line, like she was trying to stop herself from crying again. “I called you because I trust you. I need your help. Please.”

Peter was beginning to run out of realistic explanations for this. But if she wasn’t joking, then what-

“They fall in and out of it,” Eleanor proceeded explaining in more detail. “It’s as if they forget where they are and start harping on about a ‘lordship’ and ‘ladyship,’ all these random people... Thomas was complaining about a headache yesterday, but it didn’t seem like anything… And so I thought, maybe it was from the accident, but – now they’re _both_ like this.”

“Alright,” Peter said in a compassionate tone and looked her in the eye to show that she had his attention.

“And there’s this other thing-” she began, but was cut off by Jimmy’s dissatisfied grunt.

The blonde man frowned as he reached for the glass of water on the table.

“Blast!” Jimmy complained, but in a very calm way, almost as if he were in a shock and unable to comprehend it himself. He kept gripping and releasing his hold on the glass, wrapping his fingers around it, but he shook his head in disbelief. “I- I can’t feel it. I can’t feel the glass.”

“You’re reaching for it, you’re holding it,” Eleanor blinked at him.

“I can’t- I _see_ that, but I can’t- I _don’t_ feel it,” Jimmy replied, a hint of rising panic in his voice, but his eyes focused on Eleanor. “Hey, wait a tic – I know you! You’re… Elle- Eleanor.”

The young woman nodded and a tear ran down her cheek. She reached for his hands and squeezed them in a gesture of assurance. “Yes, I’m Elle.”

Peter’s face went pale. What on earth was happening? They wouldn’t take the prank this far. Eleanor was completely devastated – he knew that woman, she couldn’t even tell a white lie without giving herself away. Thomas and Jimmy could be actors, but Elle couldn’t act to save her life. “Maybe they… took something?” Peter suggested tentatively, trying to be reasonable about it. “Thomas,” he called and turned his attention to the other man. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, sir,” Thomas replied politely. “Only- would you mind telling me where exactly we are?” He looked around the room as if he was seeing it for the first time.

“What’s wrong with them, Pete?” Eleanor whispered anxiously.

“Can you, er… do you feel ok, Thomas?” Peter addressed the other man, whose eyes seemed glossed over, as if he were here, yet not present at all.

“I- I don’t-” He paused to string his thoughts together because they felt strewn around everywhere inside his mind. “I can’t really feel anything, I think... The clothes on me,” he said slowly, raising his hand to touch his sleeve. “No... I can’t feel my hand…”

The lack of panic in his voice made Eleanor all the more anxious. It was as if the two of them, too, were only now properly realizing the situation. Prhaps they were in shock.

Peter leaned over to Eleanor to consult with her. “Maybe they’ve taken some drugs?” he suggested. “Warped perception, slow reactions, don't know where they are…”

Eleanor shook her head. “Where on earth would they get drugs? They’ve been here all the time.”

“Have they?”

The woman opened her mouth to speak, but then she closed it and her brow furrowed in confusion. She walked over to Jimmy, knelt beside him and held his hands to get his attention. “Hey, Jimmy. Did you eat something odd, maybe?” she asked tentatively, just as if he were a child. “Drank anything strange?”

“We ate. At the restaurant,” Jimmy shrugged, then furrowed his brow. “But it was a bit strange, actually, yes. The food didn’t taste of anything.”

Eleanor touched his forehead and turned to Peter. “He doesn’t have a fever…”

From a brief moment of being present, Jimmy seemed to have fallen out of it again. “Where are we?” he asked and looked around, as Thomas did a moment ago. “This isn’t Downton, is it?”

“You have to take them to a doctor, Elle,” Peter said, looking at the two men suspiciously. “Something’s definitely wrong, and we can’t fix it.”

“They have no medical record, no insurance, nothing. Nowhere, not in this time,” Eleanor said and shook her head. “They’ll put them in a mad house, Pete! Who’s going to believe they’re not from now? If we bring them to any doctor, they’ll just think they’ve lost it. Look at them!” she said and gestured to Jimmy who had returned to the task of grasping for and releasing the glass, and Thomas, who was staring at his hands like he was seeing them for the first time.

Peter felt an increasing disconnection from his surroundings. He felt as if he was suddenly becoming a Peter who was looking at the events from another perspective. Was it possible that everything Eleanor had told him was true? Could these two really be from another time? Was there any other explanation for what was happening? “Well, what do you suggest we do?” he asked.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

“Must be Alice,” Eleanor said and hurried over to open the door, and a thin figure in black glided in, with concerned large eyes.

“Oh, Elle, what’s wrong? You sounded horrified on the phone!”

“They’re losing it,” Eleanor hissed in a whisper, so that Thomas and Jimmy couldn't hear her. “They’re forgetting where they are, and they can’t… _feel_ things, physical items!”

Alice thought about Eleanor’s words for a moment. The concern on her expression slowly softened. “So it’s what Mrs Clegg said would happen?” she asked as if the matter was not nearly as grave as it had seemed to Peter and Eleanor. “Something about their souls rejecting this world-”

“I don’t follow,” Peter interrupted. “Who’s Mrs Clegg?”

“Alice and I looked for ways to get Thomas and Jimmy back to 1922, but we didn’t get anywhere with it. Then we went to see Mrs Clegg, this peculiar woman who had some advice, but it was all very vague,” Eleanor briefly explained. She noticed Alice giving Peter an odd look, and clarified: “It’s fine, he knows everything. Look – I _was_ going to take them to the station today anyway,” she said. “But now… we can’t take them anywhere in this state.”

“Don’t you see, maybe that’s it,” Alice said. “Maybe if we take them to the station-”

“The station? I think the hospital would be only reasonable thing,” Peter chimed in, suspending his disbelief and playing along for a moment. “What are you going to do at the station anyway, wait for them to disappear?”

“Are Lady Mary or Lady Edith going to the station?” Thomas suddenly interrupted their conversation. “I don’t think _you’re_ qualified to take them, but I’m sure Mr Branson’s around somewhere.”

The trio exchanged looks.

“Has anyone seen Mr Carson?” Jimmy asked. “I want to go to Thirsk today, I need to know if he can spare me for dinner.”

Eleanor grabbed him by the shoulders. “Jimmy,” she addressed him and looked him in the eye. “Look at me, Jimmy. You’re at the Intercontinental,” she said slowly. “There is no Mr Carson, no Ladies-whoever. It’s us, Eleanor, Alice and Pete.”

Jimmy looked at her for a second, seemingly trying to decipher what she had just said. Then he slowly nodded. “Right… yes, Inter… Inten… Intenert,” he muttered.

“Oh god,” Eleanor breathed and her face went ashen. Was this really it? Thomas and Jimmy going nuts, forgetting everything? Actually, what if they _physically_ start disappearing? That sometimes happens in movies, doesn’t it? She turned back to her friends with a hopeless expression. “Pete,” she said in a reluctant tone. “Would you mind giving us a lift to the station?”

“You’re not serious?” he replied. “Elle, what the hell will you do there?”

She could feel the ground beneath her feet pulling away, leaving her floating somewhere between reality and imagination. Was this still their own world? She imagined that this must be what Thomas and Jimmy were feeling at the moment. Are they just forgetting everything? Everything that happened here, everything that they’d been through? Are they forgetting how they feel about each other?

“Wait for them to disappear?” said the woman, more a question than a statement.

“And what happens if they don’t simply ‘disappear’?”

Eleanor took a breath and thought for a moment, then nodded to herself. “We get on the train with them and take them to York. Where they came from.”

“You’re joking?” Peter gawked, but Alice nodded.

“I think that makes sense,” she said. “Retrace their footsteps.”

Peter shook his head in disbelief.

Uncertainty pervaded every word that Eleanor spoke. “Maybe the station didn’t work because York is their ‘same place’… And the railway line is the same,” she added. “The station here in London and the one in York – I saw it on their tickets, the train still travels on the same route as it did one hundred years ago. If they go to York from here, they’ll have arrived exactly to the spot where they came from.”

Peter’s expression was still that of utter bafflement. He shook his head. “They go there and then what? We wait for them to disappear, and if _nothing_ happens?”

The brunette woman sank down into the armchair, staring at a spot on the wall absentmindedly for a moment as she combed through her thoughts. “Then we bring them back to the hotel,” she said after a while, looking from Peter to Alice. “We wait till tomorrow, and if things don’t get better, we take them to a hospital.”

They convinced Thomas and Jimmy to pack their suitcases and helped them with it. They were already wearing the suits from their own time, and everyone thought this was for the best. They all walked together to Peter’s car; Thomas and Jimmy were falling in and out of touch with reality at shorter and shorter intervals. At moments when they would lose themselves and didn’t recognize their friends, Alice and Elle would say that they were maids to a lady who was coming to stay at Downton, and Peter was, of course, the chauffeur.

Despite Eleanor’s concerns, Thomas and Jimmy were rather calm for most of the journey. She thought they would find the traffic or modern cars overwhelming, but the state of shock which they were in made them eerily placid. They stared out the window blankly, on occasion commenting something.

The ride to the station was a blur. This was not how Eleanor had imagined it. She thought that once the time came to say goodbye, she would get to say it properly, not like this. She could not be sure who she was talking to – the ‘sane’ Thomas and Jimmy whom she grew to love, or to two confused men who were losing their connection with this world and who would probably not understand what she was saying anyway.

They arrived to the station and waited for the 5pm train to York. The huge masses of people crowding around them were beginning to make Thomas and Jimmy feel nervous; Eleanor remembered the day they all met. How was it only a week ago? It seemed like a lifetime. At one point, she noticed Jimmy move back into Thomas, a frightened expression on his face as he looked around himself. In a barely visible movement, the back of Thomas’s hand came to touch the back Jimmy’s hand and Jimmy’s expression softened. Perhaps she was only trying to calm herself down, but something inside Eleanor told her that they would be fine so long as they're together.

They waited and waited, and nothing happened. Then all five of them bought tickets and boarded the train.


	21. Chapter 21

“So there’s nothing?” Eleanor asked despondently, ready to throw her laptop at the wall. “How is there nothing? There must be _something_ out there about them, anything!” _Even if it’s as morbid as an obituary…_

Alice sighed. “You’d think stalking people on Instagram or Facebook would give you some experience, but trying to track down people from the 1920s is a whole other ballpark.”

“The damn papers,” commented Peter who was sitting behind the computer on the desk. They had been searching for the past three days and he was losing hope too. “It’s really hard to find ordinary folk in the newspapers - unless they struck gold or committed some crime, gruesome enough to be put on the front page...”

Googling ‘Downton Abbey’ was their best bet at the beginning, but they quickly dismissed that search. While there was a lot about the manor and the Crawley family, there was nothing about the servants who worked there at the time. They moved on to random searches and to archives of local papers, but this was proving to be a tedious and unproductive task.

Eleanor put her laptop away and rubbed her eyes. _We have to find something! If there’s nothing then- then they may have well been a figment of our imagination…_ “They _were_ here, weren’t they?" she asked quietly. "I- I wasn’t imagining it?” 

In the corner, Peter’s typing on the keyboard had gone quiet. “As much as I wish that it were all just our wild imagination-” he said with a long sigh. “We all saw them, Elle, talked to them. They were staying here practically all week."

"And all three of us were on the train with them, we were together for the entire ride,” Alice nodded compassionately and put her arm around Eleanor’s shoulder. “They were here – well, until they weren't anymore.”

Eleanor closed her eyes and lightly shook her head in disbelief. She could still see it vividly; their compartment, Thomas and Jimmy next to her, Alice and Pete opposite them. The sun was low and it was a nice afternoon. The murmurs of the other passengers, that white-noise-like low humming sound of the train rapidly gliding along the tracks. They had to calm Thomas and Jimmy down every once in a while when they would fall out of it and be on the brink of panic – but mostly, the pair were peaceful. They looked out the window in silence and Eleanor was looking at them. Then they arrived at the station and the train stopped, and-

Peter shook his head. “We were right behind them, we saw it just the same; they got off, so did we... and then they were gone.”

They had looked for them in the crowd, back on the train, they had even asked the conductor for help. Peter and Alice held Eleanor back when she started panicking and tried to stop the train, stop everything to find them – but the efforts were fruitless. Thomas and Jimmy were gone, and the rational part of Eleanor knew that they couldn’t have sprinted off like two disobedient children. They _were_ right in front of her as they were getting off; for a moment she wondered if perhaps she _did_ see them ‘disappear,’ but it was her brain refusing to acknowledge it, to process it, because it was so bizarre and unfathomable.

What happened at the station in York was in a way a mirror image of what Thomas and Jimmy had experienced when they arrived into the 21st century, Eleanor mused; what they had told her was that the world suddenly changed as they got off the train. Did the world change back to 'their normal' once they stepped off this train in present-day York? Because if it did, that would mean that they went home - and if they did, Eleanor, Peter and Alice should be able to find something about them after 1922. Where they lived, how they lived - a mention, at least. Because if they found nothing, there was no proof that they made it home.

“Ok - I think I might have something!” Peter suddenly exclaimed in a cautious but excited tone, and everything went quiet – even Eleanor’s mind. The two women jumped off the couch and joined him behind the computer. 

Eleanor could feel her heartbeat speeding up. It was a scan of an old newspaper article, _The Yorkshire Post_.

“This was in one of the free-access archives that I’ve been combing through,” Peter elaborated.

The issue was from 1935. Two photographs were attached to the article; one was small and grainy, but it was clear to see that there were two men and a young boy in it, standing proudly in front of a shop above which hung the sign: ‘Barrow and Kent Clocks’.

“Oh my god,” Eleanor gasped and reached for the mouse with shaky hands, zooming in. Her eyes scanned the inscription below the photo. _‘Mr Barrow and Mr Kent stand in front of their clock shop. Pictured with their young apprentice, Edward Carter.’_

 _Oh god, it’s them- and Edward!_ She felt pinpricks of tears in her eyes just looking at the picture. _It really is them!_

Peter went completely silent and wide-eyed, while Alice's hand darted over her mouth to cover a gasp.

“Holy crap! Well, go on then, what does it say?” she encouraged.

In spite of being so overwhelmed that she feared she might not be able to produce a sound, Eleanor cleared her throat and forced herself to read the article aloud: “‘Mr Thomas Barrow and Mr James Kent, Yorkshire natives, proudly opened their clock shop in the centre of York three years ago. It quickly became a great success. They offer affordable repairs of all clock types, and their products have gained a great amount of popularity among all classes. The Barrow-Kent products are of the highest quality, featuring interesting and attractive designs. Their mahogany clock model no. 211–’”

“Oh, fuck!” Eleanor swore aloud.

“What is it?” Peter and Alice asked in the same voice, looking over Eleanor’s shoulder to try and see what was wrong.

But it was hardly _wrong_ – only remarkable!

Eleanor’s voice was shaking as she went on: “‘–their mahogany clock model no. 211, called– called _Eleanor!’”_

“You’re joking!” gawked Peter, his eyes scanning that sentence again and again.

Alice leaned in to read the rest of it. “‘… has been confirmed to have been purchased by a member of the royal family.’ No way! If they were so popular, how come there’s nothing else on them?”

Eleanor thought for a second and came to a sad but very likely conclusion. “There was probably no one to take over the business after them…”

Peter, however, wasn’t concerned with this. The designs on the clock pictured bellow the photograph caught his eye. “They’re- they’re just like the vines on the pillars in the lobby,” he gasped.

Alice put a hand over her mouth. “Ok, this can’t be a coincidence-”

“And 211! Oh my god!” Eleanor suddenly remembered. “211!”

The other two looked at her in confusion, then Peter’s expression lit up in excitement as it dawned on him: “The room!”

“Yes,” nodded Eleanor in a frenzy and started laughing.

“But how did they remember?” Peter wondered. “Not just the room, and your name, but things such as how the goddamn pillars in the lobby look like?! They were losing their memories, weren’t they?”

 _Oh…_ Now they had confirmation that Thomas and Jimmy had returned to their time, but this did not explain the memories. How do you make sense of the impossible? No one knew what was happening anymore, and any explanation would be just as good, since time travelling made no sense to begin with. Eleanor desperately wanted to hope that everything simply went back to normal once Thomas and Jimmy returned to their time. But how can one know for certain?

And how did Edward end up their apprentice? He would have been fifteen in that photo… Were their lives going to cross even if Thomas and Jimmy hadn’t come to this time; if they hadn’t discovered here what they had? Or did their ‘trip’ into the future change everything? Was it fate, or did they remember what they had learned here? Did they even know who Edward really was? Eleanor’s head was starting to feel crammed with thoughts and she felt a headache coming.

Then Alice’s sprite-like voice broke the silence. “But- _why_ would they forget?” she asked. “Even if everything about Edward and Eleanor and the clock and the designs is a coincidence, why would they forget _everything_ about this time? What was the point of them coming here if they just forgot?”

It was not a stupid question. Indeed, there had to have been a reason, right? Why _would_ they be sent into this world if they ended up forgetting everything they discovered and learned?

“Maybe it makes no sense, but they were forgetting nonetheless,” Peter replied.

“Or perhaps they re-remembered once they got back,” Eleanor suggested and shrugged. “Or at least stopped losing memory even further once they were back in ‘their’ world?”

There was no way of telling. But ultimately, Eleanor felt happy and at peace to have this tiny glimpse into the past – or Thomas and Jimmy’s _future_. It seemed that luck was on their side. They met Jimmy’s son, they opened a business of their own, they were free of life in service. And they were together - at least at that point in time that was captured in the photograph.

She scanned the rest of the article. There was no information about ‘Mr Kent’ and ‘Mr Barrow’s’ spouses; all that was mentioned was that the two men apparently lived in the flat above the clock shop. She smiled to herself, but she would have liked to know more about their lives. Was it hard to make it – it took a decade after all. Did anyone ever suspect about them? What was Edward like as a boy? How much did they remember from 2020? Would they recognize Eleanor if they saw her? And how on earth did they remember the patterns on the pillars which they saw once in their lives?

She could keep asking the photograph, but she knew it would never answer – yet it _did_ speak to her. Thomas and Jimmy looked happy, and this was all the reply that Eleanor needed. It painted a smile on her face.

* * *

Thomas dropped his suitcase down by his feet and opened the door. A rather unpleasant, stuffy smell greeted them; the apartment was in need of some work, they knew that when they rented it. It was small, and everything in it was cluttered, but it didn’t matter. It was his and Jimmy’s, and it was big enough for the two of them, so it was quite perfect.

It seemingly took them forever to sort everything out; the money, secure both their new jobs, find a flat. For the neighbours, they were cousins. Jimmy would play at the restaurant down the street, and Thomas had found a job in the clock shop a few blocks away. It was not ideal, but they would manage. The rent was low enough so that they could set some money aside, and they still had most of the trinkets that Eleanor gave them.

How odd it was – they could remember the people and the conversations, but not that strange wide world that they were caught in for a time; they remembered everything being bigger and taller and louder, but they could not arrange the puzzle pieces into a clear picture. They remained only that – scattered pieces; faces, shapes, gilded marble pillars, room 211, soft bed sheets, the velvet of the night, the feeling of flying high above the city with thousands of colourful lights below them. Eleanor, whose face remained a blur to both of them, but they remembered her voice and her kindness, and they knew that she gave them the jewelry box. They felt as if they knew her through time and space.

Despite the murky memories of that strange bright world, Thomas and Jimmy could clearly remember falling in love – even though they didn’t need to remember that. How could they forget? But perhaps 'falling in love' was not exactly correct, because they were already in love - that other world merely allowed them to experience the full extent of that love. They remembered the shiny possibilities behind a wide open door, smiling at them, calling them to dare, to plunge in, to jump together. So they did. One day, Thomas was sure, they would open their own clock shop and they would be even freer. For now, a place of their own was enough.

“Thomas?” Jimmy’s voice brought him back from his thoughts. Jimmy carried in their suitcases and closed the door. Time seemed to slow down and it was a peculiar contrast to Jimmy’s excitement. He wanted nothing more than to jump around Thomas’s neck, hug him and kiss him until his lips hurt and his hands couldn't hung anymore – he smiled at the thought and tears filled his eyes. He could do that now; he could hug him and kiss him and not worry, because they were home.

“We’re… at _our_ place,” he whispered with a beaming smile, as if he were unable to believe it himself.

Thomas was overcome by the full extent of their bliss. He had the man he loved, and by some strange way of chance they were given the opportunity to create their own fate. They were ready for it.

He stepped closer, leaned in and kissed Jimmy, and he kept kissing him and Jimmy kissed him back until they were both out of breath, and after they’d made love at this small place which was entirely their own, they lay in bed, tucked under the covers, savouring each other.

It was quiet and peaceful and somewhere in the stuffiness of the room there was the scent of a fresh start.

A smile interrupted Jimmy’s steady breathing, which was lulling Thomas to sleep as he stroked Jimmy's hair.

“What is it?” Thomas asked and mirrored his grin.

Jimmy buried his face in Thomas’s chest and murmured: “Nothing, I just… I love you.”

Thomas wrapped his arms around him tighter and pressed a kiss on his forehead. “I love you too,” he said and closed his eyes.

He felt Jimmy’s heartbeat against his chest, and he heard his low breaths. The world could crumble around them, but he knew that they had each other – and this was all they truly needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for coming on this wild ride with me :) This was my favourite fic to write so far, and I hope you enjoyed reading it at least half as much. Thank you for all the lovely comments you left along the way, and it pleases me that Thomas & Jimmy have the power to join so many of us and bring a little golden thread of happiness into our lives.  
> Take care!


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